“You’ll evoke Andromeda.”

She stands

on the threshold –

neither in nor

out –

and speaks

with warning,

disapproval,

disdain.

She,

with the tossing sea

at her back

and in her eyes.

She,

clad in the blue

of a glacier’s heart.

Her opinion

should not

matter;

yet her words –

her judgment –

wriggle and wrest

their way

inside.

I look

at the dress –

tiers of fringe and

beads and

sequins winking

with promise;

the color of a sunset

blushing;

set alongside

shoes and scarf

of pewter;

arranged

on the white bedspread

like thunderheads

and flame.

And I think –

with a silent, secret

ache –

that evoking

Andromeda

might be

just the

thing.

 

— C.Birde, 4/19

 

 

Why?

Why wouldn’t you listen?

Why couldn’t you?

Ever?

Despite threat and

warning,

you succumbed

to temptation.

To the rattle and call –

so strong,

too strong –

of that small, dull, charcoal-dark sphere.

It sang

for release and

you rolled it out

from its glass-walled

confinement

against your palm –

too thin,

too warm,

so unprotected.

Your skin absorbed

melting shadow,

while the two

at your shoulder –

foolhardy and

eager –

huddled and

watched.

And I?

I ran.

Unwilling

to witness

your transformation,

your de-

humanization.

I ran.

From the room,

the derelict house.

Down the hillside.

Toward the sea.

I dove

into hummocked,

grassy turf.

Myself,

now changed –

shrunken,

diminished,

miniaturized.

I ran…

   scurried,

      rushed,

         hurried.

Through networked

earthen tunnels –

ducking lace-fringed

grassy roots –

that looped

and dipped

and dove

and curved

through endless

coils of earth.

I ran –

scampered,

hurtled

expanded

the distance between

myself and

you

until the tunnel

ended…

in an knothole

opened

in the subfloor

beneath

a battered kitchen cabinet.

Sealed cabinet doors,

defined by a slim seam

of vertical light.

A push,

and out I tumble

onto worn linoleum tiles

and dim-lit kitchen;

my former self and

size restored.

For naught.

For naught.

You

are here,

have anticipated

my time and place of arrival.

You crouch

at the cramped kitchen’s

perimeter.

You

and your two friends.

Changed, now –

one red, one yellow;

you, blue.

Your humanity

lost

(as predicted)

to right angles

and jointed,

flattened planes.

Your serrated teeth

gnash in cruel grins.

(As warned.)

Your laughter barks,

humorless.

(As feared.)

You wouldn’t

listen.

You never

did.

Surrounded,

now.

No escape.

We

are

lost.

 

— C.Birde, 3/19

 

 

 

I know.

It’s tempting.

That small, dull, charcoal-dark sphere,

contained

within that slim glass vial —

a piece

of shadow

trapped and capped.

So curious…

So seemingly

harmless.

Please.

Trust me.

I beg you.

Don’t open the vial.

You misunderstand —

I am not the threat.

It is.

Released,

it will change —

flatten…thin…spread…

and seep into your skin…

Change you.

Unmake you.

Into something

unrecognizable.

Un-human.

Inhuman.

Huge and heartless

with cruelty tucked

in your laughter

and a grin

full of hungry

teeth.

Please.

Please…

Just don’t…

For you sake…

For mine…

For ours…

…

…

…

You never

would

listen

to me…

 

 

— C.Birde, 3/19