Friday, August 24, 2012

#10



Skin

before my mother died
she told my father he must only marry
one as doe-eyed as she
one who knew domestic arts
and could please him in the bedroom as she had
so on my twelfth birthday
when i brought him a cake made with rosemary and wild
berries and my tears
not knowing what she had told him
he looked into my eyes and stroked my skin
presented me her ruby ring
for he had taken it
before he buried her
and i could almost see the phantom of her thin white finger
pointing at me from inside

i looked at him with my mother's eyes
and told him only
if he found the magic deer
that roams the woods
would i be his

he sent out his men to find her and they brought her back to me
she reminded me of mother
and i wept into her fur
begging her to save me

thus i was transformed into a doe like she
and i ran fast and far
with the king's men at my hooves
until i reached another land

there the prince he captured me
in his golden net
and brought me to his castle
where i was fed and watered
free to roam as i saw fit
the secret woods

we shall see if he loves me enough
to let me remain a deer until i'm ready
or else i'll be a monster
half human and half beast
chained by the throat
my father's daughter




10 comments:

  1. What a beautiful golden hind

    ReplyDelete
  2. #10

    I've always lived
    in two bodies
    haven't you?

    Or is that two minds
    I'm always getting those confused
    it makes me tense
    past, future
    all a-jumble
    substitute memory
    with imagination.

    But what if I'm prey
    predator, I mean what if I'm predator
    does that mean I hunt myself
    when I can't find someone else?

    William Tell shot the arrow at his own son
    what if that's some kind of medieval hocus-pocus
    and he was just shooting at himself?
    That would be fine to split your own skull
    when you miss
    and then mount it on the wall like some dusty trophy
    kill.

    I'm going to sleep now, all of me
    but it won't take a silver bullet to stop
    should the blue moon wake my animal self:
    no wolf, just a hapless herbivore
    seeking a rose bush without too many thorns.

    ReplyDelete
  3. my head aches, hanging heavier than usual
    it’s this constant constant, a daily fight
    falling asleep in the dark sheets, waking in a cloud no sun
    contemplating tea or coffee, but i won’t have either
    i simply return to bed, not sure what side to sleep on
    so i stay in the middle, tossing and rolling and close to tears
    the pain growing from my head like antlers
    and from the antlers beads of sweat forming from the strain
    of holding back the rage and frustration i feel
    as if i’ve written so many chapters in this book
    and finally awaken to find the pages empty
    i’d throw all my books and pens and elephant incense holders
    out the window if there were a window,
    i might leap, too, but there is only a closet full of
    knick-knacks and crumpled pages
    and a door leading to a garden
    where i am tempted to sleep the rest of the night
    to finally breathe clear, green air
    my head resting on the roots of a tree

    ReplyDelete
  4. Have you seen what your love has done to me
    I am now this misshapen thing
    my true nature transformed into half human
    all because you love me

    Will you have me pretend that this is love?
    This thing that blisters and scorches me
    This thing that has robbed me of my freedom
    This thing that has made me from doe to half woman

    You said you loved
    You wooed
    You preyed
    Until I was caught with in your grasp

    But I was not enough
    You loved me...but not as I was
    I needed more you said...in truth it was you who needed more

    Now I am not what you loved nor what you yearned
    but half doe. have human
    a miserable beast.

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  5. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Faunling
    Deerskin
    Wild thing

    Throw you cloak if
    Ashes, fur, feathers, tangled
    Hair over my frail
    Nakedness.

    No princes, no suitors, no
    Heavy gowns, no cold crowns
    No glass slippers I can't
    Walk, can't dance in,
    Can't run away.

    No fathers
    (no fathers)
    To own, to have, to take
    To give away,
    To buy with rings and
    Pretty things and
    Dresses that
    Shine like the sun
    Gleam like the moon
    Glitter like stars
    To whisper
    How pretty, how sweet you are
    In the clutching dark,
    No body, naked, vulnerable,
    Growing, changing,
    Bleeding, torn,

    Only ashes and fur,
    Feathers and tangled hair,
    Only wind, and leaves,
    And rain, and earth,
    Only you and me
    And long strong legs to
    Run, run, run
    Away.

    Deer skin, beloved beastling,
    Take me away

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Gah! "Throw your cloak" is what I couldn't type properly

      Delete
  7. fragmented
    these events
    shift across my
    mind in sparks
    the needles of
    remembering
    find me bare
    questioning
    if i can’t see
    the in betweens
    how to stitch the
    seam?
    a depressed
    violin scrapes at
    the sound
    i want to be born
    a chromatic scale
    taunt strings
    begin to fray
    in time they will
    betray me.

    ReplyDelete