The Enchantment
I.
At lowest tide I write it in the sand.
Only the blank waves and
indifferent sky
Will read the words that shut me from this land.
The dying light slides flat along the strand,
Washing the level ocean
bottom dry.
At lowest tide I write it in the sand.
It's in a tongue they do not understand.
Do I believe a different seeing
eye
Will read the words that shut me from this land?
This ritual is not something I planned.
But if their power grows
complete, I die.
At lowest tide I write it in the sand.
This is rehearsal. Someday I will stand,
Break spell and silence with
this voice, and I
Will read the words that shut me from this land...
At
lowest tide I write it in the sand.
II.
It's not as if they're hurting me. It's nice
Here in the tower. My room
looks on the sea.
My bed is warm and pretty. There's a price,
But my
enchantress takes good care of me.
She gives me everything I ought to want;
Her sirens sing me into restless sleep.
So long as I agree to cease to
haunt
Certain forbidden spaces, I can keep
This ring unbroken round me.
And love, too;
They love me, those who hold the book and bell.
Provided
I am careful what I do,
And never say the word that breaks the spell,
Mine is this tower, this love, this turning tide,
This silence growing
cancerous inside.
III.
She has bound even the light
But light knows
Its real mistress
And rushes to greet
the night
in red relief
The moon empties
The oceans; in silence
Light walks the bleaching
depths.
For an hour, less,
Sand, light, and waves
Escape, become themselves.
To this empty theater
I go with my pointed stick
To learn from
sunsets.
If I could stun her
With this burning beauty
For an hour, less,
She might let go.
But I do not burn
Beautifully. There is smoke.
She tolerates revolt
From the light, which she
Uses, but did not
make;
The light always knew others,
But she was my
First mistress.
She lets light rush toward
Darkness in its orange joy;
She is jealous
of my sleep.
But darkness takes
Everything. With the light
The spell recedes.
I cannot see,
But you surround me
Here, in this bed.
My dreams are troubled.
I don't care;
They let you in.
IV.
She stands strong in her intent,
Gilded in the breaking light,
Sure
that she is innocent.
Vision shatters with the night.
Her sprites pursue their measured dance
Beyond the window, luminous,
Weaving this breeze, this pastel trance,
The fragrant air surrounding
us.
Her love exerts its power. Here
I am a rose and lilac blur.
Toward
sunset I begin to clear;
Somehow the dawn belongs to her.
The frozen mirrors on the wall
Obey the enchantress of this place.
She is the fairest of them all.
The mirror does not know your face.
The crumbled potpourri exhales;
Beneath its perfume odors fade.
Nothing is pungent, ripe or stale
In this the world her magic made.
She stands secure. Why shouldn't she?
Can she lose, who commands the
light?
If dreams and darkness set me free,
Must not that mean that she
is right?
What's right is real. The dark, the cold,
Prick through. Gull's beaks.
The rocky ledge.
A single ray of burning gold
Glints along a jagged edge
And underneath this cooling sun
A desert beach reminds me how
I chose
the other world. This one
Will be hollow for me now.
It would wear my heart, at last,
As empty as this scouring sea.
I am
bound, but not bound fast.
Threads are breaking. Wait for me.
