Constellation Vulpecula
The Little Fox
Cuckoo’s darling
Sphinx-lipped hound stink
Springs a balance tipped by weakness
Of the Mighty. Doing
The Master’s dirty work
For centuries now
You should know your way around.
Sidereal astromancer
Always smiling – Bone poor
A busy employee
Avoids the traps of the past.
Someone else’s coffers you’re
Lining now you hypocritical
Suit of someone else’s armor.
Andromeda: The Chained Lady
She won’t complain
Trailing chains like widows weeds
Foci of dissonance
Her suffering draws us to her
Hub of sky.
Somebody owes somebody
Something here, that’s plain.
Wristbound, poor Miss
Bredwell, accomplishment
Depletes her
Energy enrages her
Passion disgusts her
Unfree, a natural born
Victim, a true
Lady.
JOB DESCRIPTION
Do nothing.
Be no one
Scrub the spaces in between
Your life will be measured
In others spare time.
I say those have failed to pass
Who failed to wash
The scuts of infants
Failed to harmonize the
Broken breathing.
Who made garbage of the children’s eyes?
Newborns drip a cream more holy
Than the sacraments. They are born
Little calliopes
Singing whalesong.
Incendiary at one
Stargazer at three.
Who failed to pass?
I pass on eternity and
A taste for taking time
Coaxing twisted trackways
Into light; slow the world by hand
If necessary; slow enough
For the children
To get on.
CAPITOL GHOSTS
Pale Guiteau
slants his disappointed child’s face
downwards; the better to study bloodstains left
by assassins more accomplished than himself
who required benefit of anonymous surgeons
specially qualified for skewering
the muscles of the mighty.
The guard who saw him
claimed also to hear demon cats
and could not be relied upon.
these portents once were matters of
congressional dispute; now
no matter; caught within the marbled lurch
of history, victims
of the uninspired mad;
those who pursue the corpse from whom
the ghost escaped. He haunts our history
like the villainous barber who sings as he slits
both throats and wombs, a pure tune
some say, picked clean of tragedy
which only the dying hear.
THE WITNESS
You say you love me for myself but
I killed that bitch out of jealousy
Now as sole survivor
I’m the only clue.
She was the confidential client
I left to clean up after.
In the furnace of morning I lie
Between darkness and wolfcall
Charges taunting me like
unborn children:
Ask him to marry you, mommy!
Ask him! Ask him!
This messenger ticks –
Impatient watch –
Anxious to be set going.
Some new clean thing lurks
Along the border of
Imagining.
My
Severing fire of
Intent cuts your leash.
Be off! Don’t
Rely on me; we’ll select
What we want from
Who we are. You hunt
And I’ll imagine.
Only.
Such loyalty outlasts
The stinking viscera
Of self.
Without Angels
The sky would be
Impenetrable
No mimicry to mirror
Us
Celestially
Backless vertebrates
Aswim
Amongst the clouds
Must be invented.
Even lava
Formed faces at first
(We know this)
Pushed out puckers
That spat like mouths.
Birds fly like angels but
It’s difficult
Their eyes separate to
Points of seeing
We cannot drench with self.
And the reptiles!
Such slow uncles
Shave-brush fins and boxer stance
Their beats too slow to follow.
We midwife angels
As in the fairy tale
That children so admire
The coins appear as quickly
As we wish to spend
Rushing us through spheres
Of carousels of
Space
To meet ourselves our
Unspent ghosts
Coming
Back.
God said, “Bring for the creeping things”
It is you who are a creeping thing thinks Lord Julian
Of his pasty priest, with the
Underdone face.
Were he a fish I’d throw him back.
Good thing his knees are flexible as his
Scripture. The priest speaks
Of dominion, something
His lordship understands. It means
Possession without surrendering the
Self. Power begs abuse.
He’s the master, he alone
Understands that here. Necessity’s
The chain that stops the dumb animal
Straying. Lifting eyes to the
Steepled trees he feels the boredom of fall
Fade into the dullness of winter.
The animals would be fat
Were any left – ripe for scissoring but
He ripped too many out.
Life’s start and stop – a blood bath brings
Renewal. These men could stand a wallowing.
They await his pleasure with
Lowered eyes.
His pleasure is not them. He needs
Men glamorous as girls, hopes
As high as fever but none
Are to be found.
Like the animals, they are gone.
Julian’s scarred hands twitch the reins –
Each scar is named, he counts them proudly:
Attempted usurpation
The burning brand, the bear that fought
The dog that turned on him
The boar defending young.
Past pain surmounted
Makes him long for wounds –
A cut so deep he looks into
The creature’s eyes for
Some sweet glimpse of freedom.
Lord Julian, the scorpion-hearted
Scents a smell the dogs can’t follow –
The jingling behind him should be men
The silky shadow should be deer.
His horse afraid – the creature moves
Too smooth – when he dismounts
Avenger plummets off – now
He’s alone in moss and slime.
This thing is stalking him!
He sees it through the trees
Smells hot stink – a tiger!
What ghost is this?
The prickled hairs stood high – he threw
His knife – a sailor’s trick but
Useless. He saw boars
Twelve deep, spirals snorting
Through their tusks. The trees
Morphed into deer and every beast
He’d ever killed surrounded him.
Face forward in the muck
At least the mud was real.
Fox feet pattered, the tiger whisked him
With its ruff – he dreamed a lifetime
Lying there – every friend a slight
And every promise broken.
This dark that stops his ears is surely death.
But when he stands it’s not hell he sees but
Dripping swamp. The mare he kicked and drove
Now leads him home. His blood is dried
But he must cleanse the blood of others.
To be struck he understands, now he must
Know what spared him.
Washerwomen lift their heads
At his approach – they don’t recognize this man.
Hiding faces not from fear but
Some new glory.
Chapter 26 – Victim Impact
Lord Verne confessed –
If you call taking an Alford plea a confession –
Got 40 years on each count.
He refused to “alocute” –
Describe how he did it –
And got away with that too.
I don’t care about that –
He would have blamed Mirabel.
In court for sentencing he refused
My gaze. Mirabel –
Jace now that she’s
Ambisextrous – should have given
A victim impact statement –
I asked her but she said no.
Said she was “Full of new life”
Designing jewelry and training
To be a yoga teacher.
Mom and Dad could have spoken but
They’re not over the shock.
“You write it,” said Derek
So on my phone I wrote this all down and
Made Derek laugh.
“Too long” – he critiqued – “I like it but
Not for court. Just hit the high points.”
First question with any writing is
Who are you talking to?
Ravi Krutupian was right there in court –
Watching me like I’m
The New Mirabel. This isn’t for him.
And the press
Hot and curious, needing details –
Wanting me as the new Mirabel
This can’t be for them. I felt how
Mirabel felt, that day she was naked
In the cage with a thorn in her lip.
But I looked down at Derek
Who smiled encouragingly
So I hissed, “This is for you.”
Cleared my throat, told the court
On a hot summer day I went into the city
To bridesmaid my sister at her
Beautiful wedding to a British aristocrat.
Instead I saw fear and heard lies –
Met a jealous, angry man
Who made people vanish.
I lost my only sister and discovered
Her beautiful life was one living hell.
That knowledge is now part of me,
A scar that I wear that my friends envy
Because some of them think -”
Flashed a look at my Derek –
“That knowledge is beauty. But the only reason
I can stand here and speak is
Because he’ll be locked up forever
So we can be safe.
Thank you, justice
For doing your job.”
I sat down. Derek squeezed
My hand and my eyes filled with
Sadness and gratitude –
Sorry the universe is like this but
Grateful for having a big sister
Who went through all this
So I didn’t have to.
Chapter 25 – Corpse Pose
Her eyes slid away
Fearfully assessing.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“No. I guarantee.
No hiding stalkers
On this tiny island.”
For the first time she gave me
The old Mirabel smile.
“You can see why I love it.”
“Derek Lowther knows I’m here.
I’m using up his air miles.”
Her thin legs in white gauze reached out
Pumping our swing higher.
I refused to help.
“I was there when Verne killed them,”
She whispered.
“They wouldn’t give me away,
But he heard me screaming.”
“He must have followed me
From my job –
Covered me with their blood – said
I’d made it all happen.
Threatened me, threatened everyone, so –“
She gulped – “I made him
Fall in love with you.”
Tears fell out of her eyes as I
Gripped her hot hand.
“I said you were me without
Artifice, made him think
You would want him.
Verne was always telling me
I was ruined, spoiling myself,
Destroying our future.
I convinced him you were
Unscarred – worthy to be
Lady Verne – never told him
How smart you were.”
“Didn’t it bother him
I was only fourteen?”
“He liked that. He could mold you.”
I recoiled, disgusted.
“Why not tell the police?”
Her big eyes shaded blue
Gray – ocean color.
“They’d lock me up too!
He knows too much about me.”
“But why wedding fakery?”
“That was his plan – make you think
I’d gone abroad so you could chase after.
That spa sells fake passports.”
She smiled her one-sided smile.
“I was right – you were too smart –
“Always so confident!
Escaped him too fast. You were
So good in school! Your brain
Just seemed to work right.
Helped me with MY homework!”
She looked away.
“I thought I had just one thing
You didn’t have.
“But I was wrong about that, too.
You’re more beautiful than I ever was.”
I shivered at the horror she’d
Subjected me to, degradation
Narrowly missed.
“How’d you find me?”
She requested. “I remembered
You said you loved this place. Now
You answer one. How’d you escape?”
“My boss’ diamond broker was cheating him.
I blackmailed him with the evidence
For get away cash.
My passport’s for a boy –
I want to start over. Fresh,
Just like you. Can you
Ever forgive me?”
“Not if Verne gets away
With murder. How can we
Trap him, Mirabel?”
She moved her shoulders restlessly.
“Don’t call me that. I’m Jace now. And
“I have the murder weapon.
Told him I got rid of it. And
The shirt he wore – it’s all bloody.
In a safety deposit box.”
From around her neck she
Hauled up a key –
Pressed it into my hand.
Alysse Aallyn 