Friday, January 18, 2008

Melusine, 2nd draft


Take the nix roses, floating over my body.
Last night I dreamt I was Melusine—
my serpents’ tail wrapped tight in the reeds
my anguish, wrapped tight in the drinking fountain.
Elynas Elynas drink drink
Wanderlust and courage confuse in this completely alien world,
me against the world,
and no Godhead could save me from these dreams.

In realtime,
my women friends and I gather to drink
and share. To complain, our worries,
it is how we love one other.
Talk turns to family, insecurities of being enough,
birth fathers absent, one form or another.
On the surface, I am so tired of discussing this.
So I dive,

Elynas Elynas
You are the father the mother chose in kind
over daughters’ needs to punish, to act grown,
daughters’ needs to act the mother, woman, master
of the home. Time has no length to what daughters need.

Melusine, I want to fuck you up.
Skin your scales. Thread your gills.
Change your libration,
change your libration.
I do not want to be a fishwife, only under the surface,
who drinks.

The void-of-course keeps me in the Rhinelands—
a locale all too familiar, a season I cannot change—
and I accept these fay challenges
despite Ecclesiastes warning as the water will freeze
and I will be stuck. Melusine,
the ice will be too thick to break you free.
Melusine, follow me.

Just us against the world.
Just don’t say my name.

Aw fudge it.

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