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congress of angels
There
is nothing done.
Yet
high on the gantry of the stars the incorporeal magistrates hold conference
on
the subject of this man and this woman whom languid live below
and
with mordant petulance they watch the gamins peradventure
as
the day falls into the night.
The
one says,
They feel some sort of starvation in their hearts
The
other says,
He is a bit too sane when the sun is high.
But look you now, how he will sleep by and by.
The
one says,
She is dangerous in this caper.
See
how she fumbles with the taper?
She
is meek sometimes and I should speak to her on these trials of men… what does
she read?
The
other says,
Rhymed recipes of human vice.
The
one says,
Woman! Do you want him to see you suffering as if you liked this famine?
And
doubtless she longs for her soul to splinter like the sun glittering on ice.
The
other says,
She hears nothing.
Look
at this cry of homesickness
And with a childish pout,
One
for the other and the other for what is not
wipes a tear from her eye,
He
will never know her quality as courtier,
puts the book up
This
noble hunger melts all manhoods down
and turns the light out.
For
sure she would flush him back to scarlet in her gown.
The
one says,
Listen,
he mumbles and turns in his restful bed,
Dreams
visions of pluperfect plunder,
With
his hands clasped behind his head
And
speaks in his sleep,
My spy, my spy, my
very potent, pliable and reliable spy.
My
secret handmaid, little bird…
The
one says,
What
means this breathing together that they do? This con spiritu?
The
other,
Look
you now, she has drifted away too.
And
in acts of perfidy press
the
furbelow the folds of her dress.
She
learns to fly this night…
fanned
by the heat of his heart in beautiful struggle.
and
set alight to twists and turns of sleeping passion.
Asleep,
the sweetness of him envelops her whole, pendentive
To
ply, gig and gild bloody in his fashion.
The
other,
Watch
her and him fitful sleeping, swoon
Weeping
and swaying till the savory curve of her spine arches slowly…
Drawn
up by the moon.
And
him and him, look you, how he sings a plaintive tune…
We
must away…
Here I would say,
For
night bleeds to day.
I could stay forever to live
To
wait till her senses clear.
And as your secret creature give
Their
bodies will bleed wonder and tears.
You the whole of what I do and never go.
Desire
is the bait.
Desire is the bait.
Death
is the hook.
Death is the hook.
Hear
what we say.
Hear what I say.
See
if they do…
Here would I stay.
So
let it be so.
So let it be so.
"silver swan" written and performed by tim story
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© 2002, 2003 jacqueline christina noguera
