Beulah Brooks Brown Award in Poetry, 2017

 

I.

 

When first

I laid my eyes

on you,

I was seated

at a festival,

near associates,

but alone. After

there was nothing

but the music

swelling, merry neighbors

carrying on,

the ribbons twirling

from your braids

as you spun in circles;

watching me all

the while.

Darkest of eyes

reflecting candlelight

in crescent moons

piercing through

my icy blue, innocence

calling to my soul.

I could not help

myself, my desperate

need to know you.

 

The birds, they

seem to sing

for us, strolling

arm in arm

with disregard

for those we pass;

shaking solemn heads

with scorn, hands

clasped to brows

in prayer.

They’ve tried in vain

to worm sense through

they’ve urged me to

repay my sins

with whips of twine

against bare skin.

Still,

I can’t seem to help

myself, my desperate

need

to taste your health.

 

II.

 

Pour sweetest face,

defining features illumined

by the moon,

stirring me

from dreams, such beauty

crouched above

my sleeping head.

Show me a rose

the deepest red,

press its stinging

stem into my skin.

Anything

for you, my darling,

if this is more

than talk. --

What she wants

will be so,

 

Slipping slowly

through the darkness,

just as we

had planned,     you stand

alone, wrapped

neck to toe

in cloth     to block

the biting night.

With a nod

you wave me on.

I silently approach

a spot beside

your wool swathed toes,

pull aside my robe

to disclose

the gleaming edge

at which you smile

with glee and lead

me to the door

where I begin

to knock.

What she wants

will be so,

 

III.

As the door

lurched backward

I recalled

that no one here

had ever seen my face.

I let the shock

stop nothing

shoving

the old man swiftly

through the threshold.

Your crippled father,

so unlucky

to have answered such

a well-intentioned

call, just shy

of midnight.

I took him by

surprise, this unfortunate

soul who couldn’t seem

to void a scream.

I trust my blade

through his chest,

leaving no chance

of an audible cry.

Gripping him, then

at the back

of his robes,

I drew the rose

petaled metal

from a switching torso

to lacerate

the throat.

I heard the old man

start to choke

on an esophagus

of pooling blood,

as I turned

and ran from

what I’d done.

 

Your mother emerged

from the back hall

with trembling hands

and mouth agape

I chose her fate

with fiery eyes

to end her life

in the right.

I never tore

her clothes but drove

my knife

into her chest,

seven times

at best. How she

pleaded,     pleaded “why?”

spurting crimson cords;

but, it was far

too late to explain.

By this time,

blood coated me

in culpability.

Quietly, they gasped

for dying breaths

when everything was still;

a syncopation

to my realization,

running for escape

from the horror

that I’d done

I’d done it

all for you.

 

IV.

 

I met you

under the porch light,

a yellow haze

that shrouded you

in heavenly radiance,

and angel in waiting

for arms,     laced

around her waist.

Inching forward, finally

but my triumph

seems a waste.

Pointing a finger

to my face

   you unleash

a shriek.

How could I

have been mistaken?

The men of our town

come running now,

my brothers

and my friends

to take your word

over mine.

You watch

as they bludgeon me

and I start wailing

“why?”

Calmly

you draw near

as my tears

begin to spill.

 

Still,

I could not help

myself, my desperate

need to have you.

Finding my escape

I chased

my obsession

beneath your bed

in the dead,

grievous night.

You lay motionless

but for the breaths

falling blamelessly

with each bosom heave.

You must have sensed

my presence

as you promptly

sprang to life.

Petrified

by perfidious cries,

the murderer,

come to claim

her life.

At that, they came

for mine.

Using the twine

with which I’d tried

to whip you from

my mind, they tied

my body

to a wooden mast

covered my     thrashing

head with a mask,

bore in two holes

so I could see

the torture that

awaited me.

Each member of

the commune received,

even children of four

were passed a torch.

They aligned themselves

in a searing circle

for which I’d become

the center.

   No more my angel

your sinful hands

placed the first flame

at my feet,

smiling through

my anguished     screams.

An inferno slithered

up my torso

as my heart

was beating still,