TRAVESTY

(sonnet cycle from the eponymous short story)

1.

Oh hyacinthine rattlesnake

how without warning you did strike

a tongue ablaze, she-dragon-like

a diamond grows in secret ache

My heart, my heart grows violet still

clear glass more see-through by it made

how could I salve with words, well-willed

when in the rock-face wall they fade

Bittersweet green, the poison spreads

within my soul its wingèd span

my last refrain I sing with dread:

In autumn grass the stars aflame

and gone out, gone to wait on game

and in a self-snare caught, a man

2.

Crystalline lute of moonlit night

how bitterly the autumn sounds

before the Milky Way’s hid white

descend, be with the prisoner, bound

With left hand over frets to dart

and with the right to stroke the strings —

a crystal dagger in my heart

where nightingales do roost and sing

The lunar song translucent seeps

and lucid pours down the abyss

a silver fish unfathomed deep

The night is clear and bright this time

my soul a revenant sublime

wailing and crying tears of bliss

3.

I have but words that don’t sound right

all has now fallen through, alas

there’s no fresh start, try as I might

deep down up-speaks the looking glass

If on the well-beam one could place

a candle new, on well-sill verge

then blue and white doves would converge

to make their spousal vows apace

If out of tears one could conceive

a fireproof cloak of see-through weave

and velvet crofts from sighs could swell

In our eye-pupils secreted

are Sibylls, invisibly hid

faces of vampires in nut shells

4.

And no one listens, heed to take

the empty drum pulse of the heart

I scan the horologe, its darts

it is too late, for Jesus’ sake

Before I’d tuned my strings to play

the lunar lute has turned to dust

only its spectral form, away

an angel’s airborne heel flies past

The hourglasses, water, sand

slow turning upside down keep shape

the day drips by in silent strands

Gone for good now, the crowing pride

the hapless monk’s face quiet bides

crystallizing beneath its cape

5.

I stand still, as life passes by

gurgling it drains out of the font

lions’ and other maws imbibe

but human lips stay dry with want

I’d take the form of a wild deer

with glowing fountain antlers spanned

so the green water could run clear

and seep off into golden sand

To be entirely made of stone

internal metal pipes excepting

to be the spring, the source alone

And so Diana’s greyhound gangs

on me would only blunt their fangs

never more to return electing

6.

Images flowing through it, plain

pictures of crossroads far behind

wild-flower tear drops all in vain

and other secret strife in mind

In that aquarium of yore

many a curious fish does swim

where, when and how the fault was grim

barren embraces evermore.

The rain with dark green verdant feet

unfettered, dances on the roofs

flapping its soaking cape so fleet

and whispering quiet, quiet goes

some have their fate awash with woes

a fate that never more improves

7.

A dream and strife procession, pain

athrong with ku-klux torches lit

freshly arrived, and off again

visitor neath star-coverlet

A night stampede of headless bulls

bearing down bearing, strange portent

soon they will mow you down and cull

bring your forbearance to its end

which holds that fragile heart-walled cup

a vessel filled with hemlock cold

From astral poetry and up

a solitary star you’ll rise

From the pain, soul from body prized

and yet you cling to your threshold!

8.

Until one finally comes to die

one shields hope’s candlestick from gusts

let there a portal be, there must

all this at last to justify

to see a figure in the door

holding a mystic sword and rose

a missive, spellbound warning, lore

tightening breath in fear, to pose

that the sigh hidden, unexpressed

will quite explode, like the bouquet

of men and women’s bursting zest

there’ll be a hundred-coloured glare

of angels’ fiery wings aflare

a thousand star-spined hedgehogs, fey

9.

If only dreams and words could braid

to raise sleek spires by and by

rearing their amber rooftops high

a moth-steed’s own sky cavalcade

If only plainsong from the grave

could in my soul be transmigrated

and the bells peel in endless waves

a beating heart join, unabated

If only, if, you woke from sleep

joining the moon out in the quad

and the white heat would burst aflame

and whiteness in the dark await

if everything would inundate

deep sea fire glowing darkly hot

10.

A spirit-level captive net

which now moreover is no more

the art-nouveau lone vases set

with alabaster moans implore

Vine tendrils made of peacock quills

and sunsets with hues verdant vernal

If only you’d bring back their thrills

oh bristle-ear-lobed king nocturnal

Behold the chateau panes burn red

with light reflected fire behold

as in the grass I lay my head

look at the star blooms bursting yet

and all the mysteries let’s forget

that the Sphinx’ hollow claw does hold

11.

If verse was of a metal made

with it I’d forge my heart fresh hot

and thwart the hunter’s aiming shot

repelling him from island raid

My prior heart I’d place to yearn

inside a glass walled locket case

and like a torch there it would burn

while sotto maiden songs would praise

by rainy midnights I would then

fall asleep in a dream of bliss

and never more fall ill again

and strangest fish like gilt-head bream

would swim against that dreamful stream

while softly dripping came the mist

12.

To be a nameless soul at last

I’d yield to tempests that assail

on windy waves a foamy crest

as fireplaces plaintive wail

I would not yield to shapely hands

nor golden ringlet combing glints

nor to blue heartbeat voices wince

untouched by transient beauty’s strands

I would feel no uncertain pangs

that you might look at me askance

I would feel neither ache nor angst

I’d not be sad the least inside

if ties to you were all untied

and free across the skies I’d prance

13.

Blame-walls to pass through and surpass

alone in shadowed armour-plate

I, a song unsung to its last

in deepest pools of silence wait

With yearning that grows to ascend

giving me form faint as a sigh

to let me on your lips descend

as the ghost of a butterfly

And lepidopterous vampire-wise

I would draw in your purple breath

we’d join in sin of strangest guise

I’d tempt your soul out to elope

to live out our shared dream in hope

in space of vast unchartered depth

14.

To other souls through bodies let

I’ve never been, never enabled

all on my own remaining yet

by Eros nothing but inveigled

One solecism left I hold

my hyacinthine quietest

is there or is there not a soul

in highest hearth vertiginous

If genuflexed I could progress

to souls beyond and reaching there

to be your surge sigh’s foaming crest

sword and rose song of wondrous sheen

till bliss may sigh from dread’s ravine

oh my tormentor unaware

15.

Oh hyacinthine rattlesnake

crystalline lute of moonlit night

I have but words that don’t sound right

and no one listens, heed to take

I stand still, as life passes by

images flowing through it, plain

a dream and strife procession, pain

until one finally comes to die

If only dreams and words could braid

a spirit-level captive net

if verse was of a metal made

To be a nameless soul at last

blame-walls to pass through and surpass

to other souls through bodies let