#Haiku: Pedigree Collapse
DNA results;
Lineage;
Pass it on;
Lives not lost
Wisdom
Lived.
Tag: Poetry
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The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aalyn
I closed the door for
Privacy but Dad only wanted
To speak to Verne. He was
WAY more interested in talking to a man
He’d never met than listening to
His own kid! Go ahead. IGNORE the Virgin.
The virgin is used to it!
At least I was allowed
To listen in.
Verne said Mirabel had just pulled a “Mirabel.”
“Wedding’s off, I take it?” asked my Dad.
He sounded relieved!
“Not because of anything I’ve done or said,”
Verne assured. “She just can’t seem to cope.”
Handed back the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Take the first train home,”
My Dad directed.
“Dad, it’s only Saturday!”
“You can’t stay alone
In some young man’s apartment.
Doesn’t look good.”
“Who’s looking?” I demanded. “Besides, he’s staying
at The Stanhope,” I winked at Verne.
“I’m sorry, no! Must I put your mother on?
You know she’ll back me up.”
“At least let me call the Lowthers.
Maybe they’re in town.”
Longtime family friends. He subsided.
Muttering.
“Parents are so awful,” I proclaimed out loud once
Severing connections.
“They think I’m a baby.”
“They want you to never age”
And Verne smiled wickedly at his private
Epsteinian joke.
I found the Lowthers’ number and got only voicemail –
Should have figured that would happen!
They were at the Cold Spring country house of course!
I enunciated clearly, “This is Richenda Marshott
with an emergency question. Please call me back as soon
As you get this at 715-527-1313.”
This granted me another day at least
I thought till
Someone might check in.
If I spoke to any member of the family –
even barf-inducing Sierra – I could fend off Dad
For the entire weekend.
Verne looked hungrily at my phone.
“What question will you ask?”
“Why, if they’ve heard from Mirabel of course.”
Dropped it in my pocket. High-waist jeans
Have deep, deep pockets.
“I’m going to the Day-Spa,”
I said, allowing him to bail.
But of course he said,
“I’m coming too.”
Chapter 12 – Derek
Bioceutically Renewed was so far east
It was almost in the water. At the door, a
Sweet-faced Asian lady
Expressed almost comic dismay.
“Customers privacy sacrosanct! You understand.
Sacrosanct.” But
Just when I would have recommended
Verne get more friendly
He went haughty.
“We’re talking about a missing person!”
He barked. “This is a police case!”
She was not to be caught.
“Are you police?”
“He’s the fiancé.” Reaching out to touch her arm was
Too naïve! She shrank away.
Verne swelled, his importance
Throbbing. “I’d like to see
The manager!”
We filled the tiny waiting room.
The employee backed away, alarmed,
Scurrying, hastily diminishing
In size. I imagined that was their secret to dispense –
Clients requesting “to be smaller”
Turned into mice. I hissed at Verne.
“What if she calls the police on US?”
He waved this away, airily.
“Flunkies never do. A British title paves the path
To everything.” How I wished
This wasn’t true. The frosty-eyed manager
Was neither young nor Asian,
But when I introduced, “This is Lord Verne,
Mirabel’s fiancé and I’m her sister”
Her expression changed most notably.
How in our democracy could Verne be right?
“Have you told the police?”
“They’ll get involved after the waiting period,” Verne said
Smoothly. Far too smoothly. How many
Wives had disappeared on him before?
“We think she’s under duress. We’re trying
To act fast.” I begged;
“We just want to find her! She carries
Valuables. She could be in danger.”
Verne’s eyes raked me over,
While he fluttered his lips
Disgustedly, as if to say –
“And she left me with this THING!”
Instead of instant ejection
We made it to the inner sanctum, an
Unromantic room where filing cabinets loomed
Over wooden chairs. Ms. “Operations Manager”
Consulted her computer.
“She signed up for our Wedding Package
But only made the first appointment. That was
Days ago. I understood – er – her fiancé
Was…someone different altogether.”
Verne paled and lost his breath.
Fell into a punitively twisted chair.
It was up to me to ask the questions.
“Short, fat, bald?”
“That’s the one.” The woman panicked
At her own audacity.
“Tells us what we need to know.”
Verne was gasping like a fish
And he was not a good color.
I thought he might stroke out.
“Contact numbers?”
“Contrary to policy. I’m sorry.
Her voice was cold, but her eyes were warm.
“May I get you a water?”
“Please,” said Verne. “Bottled, if possible.”
The moment she was out the door I raced
To the computer. “Last appointment was three days ago!”
I took a screenshot with my phone.
Ms. Harvey returned with a bottle of chilled water
which Verne accepted. I was rescued
By the ringing of my phone.
“I’ve got to take this.”
Stepping into the hall.
I heard a deep masculine voice.
“Hi. This is Derek Lowther. Is that
Richenda?” Derek Lowther? Last time I saw him he was a
Particularly nightmarish twelve year old jerk.
(I was a cool eleven year old sophisticate.)
This was NOT the person I’d hoped to speak to. I
Pushed out through the anteroom and into
The pale winter sunshine, playing
For time. “Yes,”
I told Derek unwillingly, “it’s me.”
“So what’s the emergency question?”
“Have you heard from Mirabel?”
He was genuinely astonished.
“Has ANBODY heard from Mirabel?
I certainly haven’t. I’m at the apartment.
Do you mean, did she call here?”
“Maybe you could find out
If your parents have heard anything?”
“They’re on retreat in Sri Lanka. You can assume
The answer’s No. What’s the hurry?”
“Mirabel is missing.”
A beat of silence. I could hear his struggle to be polite.
“Wasn’t Mirabel ALWAYS missing?”
“This time’s exceptional. She came back.
She was getting married.
Then she disappeared. Again.”
I have to admit it did not sound like an emergency.
Impossible to explain anything to this guy!
Hadn’t seen him in 3 years and already
I was angry at him.
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 7 – Bride & Seek
In the elevator Verne requested:
“Game face only.” I was bemused.
Which game is that?
“Bride and Seek” – the ancient
Party game – requires someone
Getting locked in an airtight trunk
Does not end well, as I recall.
We decanted on the penthouse floor.
Battle of the Rich Men, I thought,
Who knew that’s how my
Weekend would devolve?
But this man’s apartment seemed really his
As opposed to Verne’s
Antiseptic rented rooms –
Each gaudy piece carefully curated,
Trucked in from God knows where
Art deco friezes,
Naked ebony statues –
Bows & arrows –
Lots of brass and torchieres.
And that’s just the hall.
Leather paneled, copper nailed door
Opened before we even rang the bell and
A handsome, shorter, older man
Stood before us in bathrobe and slippers.
Mirabel with this guy?
What is the use of beauty
If this is all it gets you
Verne’s at least good-looking.
“Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I
Recognized as jovially false:
“What brings you at this hour?
Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent
I couldn’t place.
He took my hand, mauling it like many
An unbalanced teacher at my Special School
for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subjects
Long Before They’re Ready.
I am practiced at closing my mind
Against these guys
Even as they woo me.
“You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”
“That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”
“I’m Ravi Kruptupian,” said the man,
Refusing to let go.
Subtle power struggle – your manners make no
Purchase here –
My first flicker of
Actual fear – alone in the world
With two strange men who wore
Compulsive need like ad logos.
I can’t fault Mirabel for deciding
Better disappear than marry amongst this ilk but
Where does that leave ME?
“Welcome to my enchanted forest,”
Said the man in the bathrobe.
“Please leave your shoes by the door.”
He slid the bolt as
We came through.
“I know it’s late,” Verne began,
Ravi said, “Never care about the time. Drink?
Pot of coffee?”
Kruptupian’s inner rooms did not reassure.
Dark, hand-carved, certainly fake
Tree branches projected from the walls
Displaying riots of glittering glass objects.
Coffee appeared from
A wall recess. Why not?
Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.
“Where exactly did Mirabel SAY she was going?”
Asked this man as if he and Mirabel’d never met.
“Aren’t you supposed to be
Honeymooning?”
Was that a tinge of glee I heard?
I’m sure Verne heard it too.
He might go off on any moment –
I didn’t think he was coping well –
Game face was NOT in evidence.
We sat in an upholstered leather booth
Highbacked –
Plundered from some café.
“She didn’t say,” said Verne.
“She was joining us for dinner,”
I told this strange new man.
“I just arrived on the six o’clock train.”
“Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.
“Or so I’ve heard.
Your relationship was good?”
Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at telling folks
The basic facts about her family.
Was he implying
Mirabel left because of ME?
Two Marshott girls never breathe at once?
I decided not to get into it.
“She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”
I began to feel hopped up on coffee.
Quit that stuff
Before the shaking hands. I
Banged my mug upon his shiny table.
“I heard you knew her well.”
Let him think she’d squealed –
I smiled in a way that forecloses
Further questions and
He blinked indulgently.
“I haven’t heard a word
Since her going away party.”
Ripple of surprise from Verne.
“Going-away party” unknown to groom?
Ravi kept smiling.
He had a lot of teeth.
“Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone
I heartily recommend
Fall in love with your SELF first.”
We did not believe him for a minute –
He was needling Verne.
This bad conversation somehow seemed
To be endlessly getting worse.
“She certainly had the means –
I gave her a generous parting gift
Then found out she helped herself to more.”
His face hardened, steely-eyed.
“I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”
“Mirabel stole from you?” spluttered Verne.
“Who knows what went through her mind,”
Ravi spread his hands in apology.
“She may have been confused about my gift.
No harm done.
Jacobson returned the stones.”
What did all this mean? Don’t worry about Mirabel,
She’s just a little thief?
Disappearing from humiliation, exposure & shame?
I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:
Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?
Never had “game face” seemed so
Dangerous and unappealing.
“She worked for you?”
I tried to clarify.
“She was my scout. She brought me –
Things I might want to buy.”
Verne’s boil burst.
“She never for anything with me!”
He sounded ready for a fight
But defending his money, his charm or
My sister?
Ravi skirted the issue
With old-world politesse.
“Women keep some expenses private.”
That’s true as dirt;
My mother calls it “mad money”.
A hundred dollars tucked inside
Your bra. Verne would never best this man
Except in hotness and
Eligibility. Someone
Needed to tell him he was “enough”;
Probably that was Mirabel’s job
And she got tired of doing it.
I was not the one to explain to him.
I pursued investigation.
“Did she call you?”
Ravi pulled out his phone.
Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”
“She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”
Verne asserted, coming back up
Like a Bobo doll.
“Know anything about that?”
He was overly combative – this
Wouldn’t get us anywhere.
“What address?” At least
Ravi seemed interested.
Luckily Verne recalled it.
Ravi remained impassive.
“I’ve got no information.”
Verne stood up. This felt bad.
“Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”
Ravi rose too.
Short but still impressive.
“She never had a key. She couldn’t enter
Without my knowing. I’d rather
My house guests weren’t disturbed.”
Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.
Ravi walked us – miming helpfulness
Towards the door.
“I suggest missing persons.
Get police involved.”
He seemed to know this would insult Verne further
And it did but Verne shook it off,
A punch-drunk fighter.
“What good are they?”
Ravi pushed his luck.
“Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”
Verne’s face melted into gargoyle.
Turning to me Ravi backtracked –
“Likely bridal nerves? The engagement was
So sudden.”
“We’ve been together forever!”
Verne barked. I took his arm.
“Sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you.”
Somehow the door got opened.
“No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”
I shoehorned Verne outside.
“You’ll tell us if she calls?”
“If that’s what Mirabel wants.”
I got the door shut before Verne
Attacked him.
“I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!
How I wish we hadn’t come!”
I thought he might weep.
The elevator opened without a
Summons. This whole place seemed
Intent on ridding itself of us.
But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”
He looked back longingly.
“I bet she’s not.” I muscled him
Into the elevator.
“How do you know?”
He looked at me as if I had
Magic powers.
“He accused Mirabel of stealing!”
Verne blew that off.
“Mirabel’s light-fingered.
He steals from the world, she steals from him.”
He didn’t seem to realize
This philosophy could apply to him.
Why marry someone you can’t trust?
One more thing I still don’t get
About Adult World.
I reassured him.
“She burned that bridge. I could tell.”
Verne taxed me with how I knew –
Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”
Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel
How could he trust me?
Needing me made him hate me.
I would have to manage him
Like a parent. Like poor
Mirabel herself. Luckily
He relaxed into the car without more fuss.
I said, humoresque – “I’m psychic.”
I say that to my folks because
They’re just so clueless about
Others’ vital signs –
How else explain the obvious? But
Verne’s whole face changed. He became
Pathetically excited.
“Of course!” he said.
“The sister thing! It creates
A Psychic link. I have no siblings.
Tell me what you feel?
Where’d she go?”
The driver also needed to know:
Where to?
We put him on pause while
I equivocated.
“I haven’t seen her in so long,
The connection’s fogged.”
The only thing I knew for sure was
Mirabel must hate Ravi just like I did.
“I need to get to know her again.”
“Tell me where to go,” said Verne.
Then he invoked the magic words.
“I’ll do anything.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
He reached for my bag
Kissed the top of my forehead –
Doubtless drinking in
Sweat, hairspray, foundation;
“Richenda?”
Pronouncing it “Richendor”-
English accents are so cool.
“Recognized you immediately. You’re
Just like Mirabel. Maybe it’s
The dark glasses – always dodging
Paparazzi.”
I felt helpless rapture as if
He flattered me when all it meant
Was that Mirabel wanted to hide and yet
Remain superior in just the way I’d
Fantasized. I did some obscure
Need to argue –
I’m an arguer –
But taking “compliments”
Is the better part I know.
But usually people said how unalike we were
Snow White and Rose Red.
“Er, thanks,” sounds so ungracious and
“What happened to Mirabel?”
Downright rude.
I said it anyway.
He batted at it briskly.
“Unavoidably detained.”
Swept me and bag away from the escalator
Clogged with ordinaries –
Down the platform
“We’ll take the elevator to the car service.”
Actually, it was a limo.
The driver rushed to fondle my
Pathetic flowered bag. Couldn’t parse whether he
And this mystery man
Knew each other – casual hire? or
Permanent position? Hard to know.
“You’re the fiancé?” I stuttered out.
Worse and worse! Country cousin
Morphing into bumpkin sister.
He seemed surprised.
“So sorry,” he bundled me into the limo,
“My excuse is wedding nerves.
Meet the family!
Philip Valerian. Everyone calls me
Verne.” Now I was
Laughing and I couldn’t stop.
“Mom thought your name was Rupert Golden!”
Verne didn’t see the amusement.
“Must be some other swain,” he huffed.
Was I
Getting Mirabel in trouble?
Would she thank me?
What kind of fiancé
Hates to hear his glamor girl
Has been around?
“I guess we all have wedding nerves.”
He was jumpy,
Fingers drumming on one knee.
What a relief to turn away
Make what brain-meat I could of the street outside.
Writing my own story
In which he was smoother, easier,
Less knotty and complex.
New York City! Kubla Khan!
But everything was dark and dingy
Until Fifth Avenue; there a
Nonstop parade of glittery storefronts
And entitled shoppers
Promised trousseaux and makeovers and
Glamorous fun!
The limo stopped at the dress designer
Questrina,
And the driver stepped out of the car.
A woman rushed through the double doors offering
two glossy green dress bags in outstretched hands-
Driver swept them into the trunk and we were off again.
“Your dresses,” explained Verne.
My excitement dulled to confusion &
Disappointment –
Bait and switch:
I should have known.
“I thought Mirabel and I
Would choose our dresses -“
“Oh, there’ll be lots for you to do.”
I’m surprised he didn’t offer a
Lolly to distract me.
“Here we are,” said the would-be groom.
“At my place.”
A skyscraper on Fifth Avenue?
Shiny red doorman
Rushed the curb. “Your lordship.”
I thought my ears were ringing.
Was I hearing right?
Should have watched that damn Downtown Abbey
Or whatever it was called –
My oldsters begged me to
Watch with them
Instead of proudly sequestering my anime anger.
Could he really have a title?
Do they still give those out?
We were alone for a looooong 43 floor ride.
Under sallow yellow
Lighting he seemed
Depressed – was it me or
Or approaching Mirabel?
If only I could read minds! Then
Gold enameled door opened and
There stood my sister.
-
The Book of You – a haiku diary by Alysse Aallyn
#Haiku: Solitude.
Soul
Wakes
Alone
Floating;
Prison cell
Dissolves –
Language
Corrals
The moon.
-
Lewis Carroll
Lewis Carroll: Open Your Mouth And Close Your Eyes, or…
Nympholepsy considered as one of the Fine Arts“And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you’d be?”
“Where I am now, of course,” said Alice.
“Not you!” Tweedledee retorted contemptuously, “You’d be nowhere! You’re only a sort of thing in his dream!”
Through the Looking GlassThrough the lens the child seems double-fronted;
Pregnant as a Rorschach blot.
Knowledge is possession, says the Bible.
Better to be etched forever
by silver nitrate eyes
Or better to be loved? But
To be loved you must hold still
Hold still forever.
The butterfly stains spread outward:
We are safe for not much longer.
Faces prop the dying man like theorems
Lines extending to infinity
Lines that never meet.
That’s mathematics, says Tweedledee, the
Ultimate logician.
“You won’t make yourself a bit realer by crying.”
Alysse Aallyn 