Archipelago

1

Without her head that heifer is a map. Dark markings, the islands of a secret archipelago. What does the Duke need with one more cow? What I have lost he could not bear; his mind would scatter into rocky islands, with pointed stretches to be traversed only for the sake of traversing. The heifer’s ribs mark the stronger currents from north to south. I must clear the maelstrom that coils those austral seas to reach the fortune the Duke denies with a dragon’s cunning. 

2 

It isn’t theft if it’s your destiny, a gossamer thing, blown from your palm in one foul breath. The Duke has deceived all society; his mercy is a sham. Even clapped in irons, I’m not deterred by his legalistic rustling. On the cell wall, the twin of the heifer’s map is growing. I recall the arrangement of the forbidden isles perfectly, despite this confusion of underland aromas that muddle Mnemosyne. What phantoms the titan dispatches, slices of my beloved through time, bearing contradictory messages of orphic bliss. The Duke be damned. Beyond these tombs the heifer lows. My bride’s price in cipher, she longs to make her sacrifice. 

3

From the black river I approached the Duke’s prize beast the final time. Chart severed from fat and sinew, inside the heifer’s cloak I wore the blooded seas. And wear them still, at the helm. Is it that true islands drift apart? The seascape is not as I expected. Cloud indulges in its wicked play, eclipsing then revealing rocks in wrecking places. My amethyst must be buried here. Giant lizards defend the isle. Spikily serene, they dive to wait upon her titanic transformation.


A companion piece to ‘Present at the Birth of Mystery’


Return to Room Three: Myth-Making