Wintersea, 2

In Wintersea when the winter heat
drifts ashore
the Degas in the Main Hall?

its white tutu thaws into a soft, milky froth

but the citizens must not ever speak of this
for the newborns are always and still
fast asleep
and jealousy creeps and devours
in every corner
drip

drip
dripping a metallic water

“and thou art dead, as young and fair”
Lord Byron shouted into the fog but no one wanted to hear
over the buzzing of flies vomiting on rotted meat
the screaming pile of foul smelling letters
the discordant noise in the shattering reflections

“Do you finally see?” the Hag pleads
bearing her gray teeth through blackened lips
her silver gown glistening on the synthetic sea
the froth and foam bathes the Furies and The Crone.

Wintersea 3: Dismal, Virginia

The squirrel's nervous tail
twitches
twirls jumpy circles
readying for a leap
from the sturdy oak
to the blowing pine

“in Wintersea, thou must bend
to meet the winds of time
with thy open hand,” the wizard whispers
“be ready to catch all noises
waiting
between the slimmest of branches.”

the Minister and his wife are leaving
the swamps of Dismal
hymn books in their suitcases
they're heading to New York City
for the Macy's Day Parade
their overblue eyes spilling Hope
on the cock-eyed path

on the broken roadside
the ugly Madonna's Vogue
waving in perfect squares that frame their faces

the Hag bubbles a hate potion in her blackpot mouth
the wicked little girls steal some
and spit the yellow acid
burning holes in the Book

the squirrel jumps

dried pine needles jingle
a dainty cadence

Wintersea

Wintersea

for a reader not yet born


My always approaching Proserpina
follow the fragile wren tracks
newly stamped
into a thin blotter
of cold, white paper

see the message
left for you. Move past
the column of limb heavy
leyland cypress and berry clotted
pointed illex, follow

the skirting bone sound
the brown song
in the dead leaves

forgo the artificial heat of the orangery

and come to fatal Wintersea
where oceans bloom in fields
of white-capped flowers
preparing to ride us under

on this waiting fruit
bite down.