07 December 2014

Magpie Tales 249: Lensing


Photo by Elene Usdin, via Magpie Tales

Wary glance from supernova eyes
shining a ring around the black hole

anchoring the center of a galactic heart

It feels at a distance this lenticular caress,
bent, arcing over the interstellar chasm
separating love from fulfillment

Gravity warps, accelerates, casts out
time and distance, bright recognition
of love laying, waiting for our fall

02 December 2014

Magpie Tales 248: Raveling


Bond of Union, 1956, by M. C. Escher, via Magpie Tales

No one warned us our love would be covalent, 
sometimes corrosive, often explosive
burning bright twining around hearts
built for comfort not for speed
whirling so fast making time run backwards
mirrors held up to each other reflective
refractive actinic addictive as gold
spinning tendrils so fine the pain unnoticed
until the sun burned out and we in the dark
howling with sweet misery of the raveling

29 November 2014

Winter Totem

Tadhg sank to his knees atop the tor. Wind, icy and iron-like, skirled off the sea, summoning a doleful rattle from the bone necklace dangling down the matted furs that served as his coat. A weak cough scratched his throat. A short distance away, down in a glen that opened up into a cove along the beach, he could see a a stone cottage. At one end was hat looked to be a wood door. At the other was a lichen-bedecked chimney, from which a gauzy stream of smoke spiraled away into the air. "Good," muttered the traveler, "it won't be long now, will it, Fiachna?"

Tadhg smiled, wincing as his leathery lips split again. He reached a sun-burned hand up to caress the little skull attached to the end of the necklace. Tadhg reckoned his companion now gone would have liked the cottage and its promise of warmth and food.

The sun above offered the traveler little of the former and none of the latter. His belly not having been troubled by the presence of proper food for several days, he barely had energy to shiver. The sight of the cottage gave him some strength, and he struggled upright to hobble down the faint dirt track that led into the cove. As Tadhg set off, he saw the door open, and into the light stepped an old man wearing a wool cloak. It looked like kelp.

Tadhg limped up to the door. The old man was leaning on a stout driftwood walking stick, watching him, soundlessly and with eyes like those of a skua. The traveler staggered to a halt, swaying a bit. Neither man spoke. The wind offered whispery counsel with faint soughing about the stones of the cottage. After twenty or so heartbeats, the old man spoke.

"I see you've brought your talisman, my son."
"Blessed Father, I have."
"What was his birth name?"
"Fiachna, Father."
"Ah, a proper name for such strong bones. How long ago did the soul depart this shore?"
"Many months, Father. I've barely slept since. My dreams offer no succor, and his eyes haunt me no matter how heavy the dark."
" I can see it writ upon your visage, man. And your belly is meeting your backbone."
"Aye, Father, aye…" Tadhg's voice trailed off into the tail end of a gust. Tears wove tracks in the grime upon his face, staring helplessly at the priest.

The old man said nothing while stroking his beard. A resounding whoomp shook the ground as it traveled up from the beach. Tadhg started a bit, that seventh wave taking him by surprise. The old man moved not at all. He was staring into the emerald distance over Tadhg's shoulder. A clutch of seagulls wheeled overhead with thin metallic cries. The old man looked up at the birds. He sighed and spoke.

"Come inside, lad. There is fire, there is bread and meat. Feed the belly first, then rest your bones by the hearth. The tide turns soon, and we shall bless the bones of Fiachna that you and he shall sleep untroubled." 

The old man turned and entered the cottage. Tadhg started forward, head down, but warm relief beginning to flood his frame. The oak door creaked shut, wind filtering into the cracks in its face with the faint sound of scratching. Down below, the waves roared onto the shingle, spray hissing and purring among the rocks.

17 November 2014

Magpie Tales 246: Onramp


Image courtesy of Tess at Magpie Tales

Her veins aflame, burning
with panic, regret and longing
Not the parasitic draining
of buried addictions vampiric

Road rises, grips a pounding heart
making love to the pedal
She weeps, speed is never enough
to find home in the outer dark