the Lady Kaila and the Idiot

My hands cold
elbow deep in the mists of a dark winter’s night
under a moon the color of polished silver

She had insinuated herself
into the statuary of the icy garden
Barely perceptible. . .
A pale silvern flame
aflicker in a lustrous wonderland adorned
by the Fae in the service of the Ice Queen

The fresh fallen snow swallowed the echoes
of the whole of the World
and lent a featureless virginity to all things here below the night sky

Her voice comes to me
like someone at a distance
‘I am innocence reborn
and the dying breath twined around your name. . .’

I answer
‘You shame me now for I have ever been hidden in potentiality
I am pages as yet unwritten
parched and dry for want of ink’

She gestures to a hidden horizon beyond the garden wall
‘You shall render me gravely
if I leave you to your poetical devices
Dance with me’
She steps down from her pedestal
Extends her hand

‘I can never write all that I feel
and so I am captured
Spread across time like a rope of wine’

She stops
Her dark eyes glisten
‘Oh youth I would allow your caress
that I might remember a fever
Remember a night where Nux spread her belly across the vault
from one horizon to the other
And then you were a lad much as you are
pulsating, hot, raw
But tonight you are all I have’

‘Lady I might not have the heat to melt you
and then what of me?
I will surely disappoint you
and your ire is something of legend. . .
Is there another sport that you might like?’

She took the whole of the sky into her arms
‘All the world is here in this moment
and the darkness of the skies
is the silence that falls between Lovers
The silence between heartbeats
There is madness in the way of Lovers
Dissolve into my passion
Into the alchemy of my soft touch
and you shall be transformed
Transmuted into a more eternal art’

‘I could never endure the light of morning
I am
and always was a shadow
hiding from the fingers of the coming dawn’

I have displeased her

She is the breadth of a hair from my face
‘Release me from my winter heart my darling
Torture is being this near and yet so far away
You were ever my Love
We are etched in stone and starlight
You have but to take my hand. . .’

Her hand seeks to brush back my hair
causing it to turn white and brittle
I lean away
‘Where does the cold come from?
Whence the Sun, the moon and the Stars
The wind
the sea
I can not embrace you
I do not belong to even myself. . .’

Her look is savage
her look is despair
her face turns to marble even as I watch
and something eternal leaves her

She says
‘Forgive me
I longed to see the sunlight in your eyes
to touch the moonlight in your hair
I desired one last kiss of starlight falling from your love-filled mouth’

She turns

She turns and she is gone

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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