looking, straining to exit,
Mime in a glass house.
by Emily Pauline Johnson
What saw you in your flight to day,
Crows, swinging your homeward way?
Went you far in carrion quest,
Crows, that worry the sunless west?
Thieves and villains, you shameless things!
Black your record as black your wings.
Tell me, birds of the inky hue,
Plunderous rogues – to-day have you
Seen with mischievous, prying eyes
Lands where earlier suns arise?
Saw you a lazy beck between
Trees that shadow its breast in green,
Teased by obstinate stones that lie
Crossing the currents tauntingly?
Fields abloom on the farther side
With purpling clover lying wide-
Saw yoy there as you circled by,
Vale-environed a cottage lie,
Girt about with emerald bands,
Nestling down in its meadow lands?
Saw you this on your thieving raids?
Speak. – you rascally renegades!
Thieved you also away from me
Olden scenes that I long to see ?
If, O ! crows, you have flown since morn
Over the place where I was born,
Forget will I, how black you were
Since dawn, in feather and character;
Absolve will I, your vagrant band
Ere you enter your slumberland.
It was in the desert
that he finally caught her,
alone, in her bathtub,
the gypsy surrounded by
She startled as his form
shadowed the noon hot sun,
his beard bleached with forever
trailing to the ground.
“Do not be afraid. Relax,
I will bring you more water. ”
She closed her eyes,
as he poured the fresh draught,
smelling of tea tree.
Looking over the porcelain lip,
she smelled, and saw new
lemon grass patching the barrenness.
“What? Who? ” “Hush, relax,
close your eyes, feel the water.”
She did, and felt the tingling,
her skin, revitalizing.,
body dissolving, precipitating,
his hand in her water,
starting at her feet(?), the wave
sending a pulse through her,
bringing the tears
memories mingled, diluting:
Father’s dementia, the instability
ripping within, and out to the family,
Mother’s infidelity, crashing on the shore,
Living(?) with grandparents, undesired,
pushing even her brother away,
her body into a flesh consuming fog.
He drew his hand
down the length,
and out again.
She began to come out of solution,
coalescencing her thoughts,
collecting her body.
“Leave all those trinkets behind,
my dear, you need them
He reaches his water
wrinkled hand for
the chain and pulls.
The bubbles drain away,
sponged by the once desert.
He takes her
by the hand, pulling
up her beauty.
“You are reborn, my sister,
Fare thee well.”
He takes up his beard,
walking through her oasis,
She glances at the tub,
(It was a heavy old thing) .
She walks away,
now burdenless, straighter,
flowers flowing her footsteps.
(It’s open link night over at dVerse, come on by…)