Turns, Twists; Lost Things
By Alexandra Seidel
Around the first corner--left--
you find the sylph that governs the
western winds
hair and limbs spelling out abandon
the sylph--neither man nor woman--
tells you a story
and half of that is lost on the breeze
another left
and a stone found lying on the ground
plain as onyx or jade
too heavy for your pocket
but warm in your hand
--some stones hold breath or life--
Your third turn is a right
and almost finds you tumbling down a
well
set like a grave into the ground
the echo haunts you as you retreat
already lost. You take
another right (which might be left)
and find a beggar, open-handed
squatting there, eyes staring empty
you part with the warm stone
and you go right again
there is a dark cup
brimming with wine
thirst makes you drink (thirst?
really?)
Back again and left
scattered peacock feathers on the
floor,
and the shed scales of a snake, a
leopard's skin
you take the skin and take a right
warm cake awaits
fresh from the oven that you cannot see
baked by no-one, filled; you lick
warm berry juice from your fingers
(berry juice? really?)
and then again you turn--right or left,
no matter--
and find a bed or a bench or a throne;
a hat
or a crown; more warm things
filling your stomach
and the leopard's spots on your skin
and all the walls around you softly
closing in
~~~
This poem was first published in 2010 by Labyrinth Inhabitant Magazine which is unfortunately a dead market now. If you enjoyed the poem, do click on the woman in white to the right, she'll lead you straight to the Tip Jar. Thanks!