The Quest of Isis
I am the bride’s head
Severed from the body
I live in the future,
Where science cannot follow
And I seek out the prophetic god
The one who’s seen it all
I ask for his hand in marriage
And he gives me my own
(even though I had left it behind)
So I reject him
For he gave me what I already had
I continue traveling the distant path
In a small clearing
I come upon a witch
(She has a sugar house)
Seated on a stool in the front yard
Tending a burning, boiling, black pot
Snacking on a child’s bones
I am the bride’s head, hesitating
So she asks me what I want
“A place in the sun.”
And she laughs
The wolf, who is the moon, has eaten it
And it will not be back till it rises over the horizon
The end of night
Which she assures me will never come
As long as I am looking at the world through my own eyes
I ask to borrow hers
She screams
And cowers in her house
Licking her fingers clean
I cry, a single tear,
(I was misunderstood)
And continue on my way
The woods play tricks on my eyes as I walk through them
Shifting stalks
They forbid me to speak
But whisper continuously
To me
About me
Bitter little barks
I pick up two broken sticks
And use them for legs
I take my ears off and put them in my new pockets
The trees scowl, that they have lost their audience
The forest bursts into an open field
I return my ears
And set my legs aside
The cricket song reaches out, tells me I am home
But I know they lie
The field stretches endless before me
I have no wish to cross it
So I sit and wait,
For my husband, my body,
And wonder what form they might take
A hare bounds up from a hole in the ground, near where I laid down my legs
He scratches his ears and vomits a scrap of paper
(He didn’t have my pockets)
He waits for no response and is gone
It is a message from my groom
He has found another
Because who could marry someone who cannot keep their head?
But my body has made the trip at least
So I put myself back together and face the endless field
It is a road now
But still, without end
Severed from the body
I live in the future,
Where science cannot follow
And I seek out the prophetic god
The one who’s seen it all
I ask for his hand in marriage
And he gives me my own
(even though I had left it behind)
So I reject him
For he gave me what I already had
I continue traveling the distant path
In a small clearing
I come upon a witch
(She has a sugar house)
Seated on a stool in the front yard
Tending a burning, boiling, black pot
Snacking on a child’s bones
I am the bride’s head, hesitating
So she asks me what I want
“A place in the sun.”
And she laughs
The wolf, who is the moon, has eaten it
And it will not be back till it rises over the horizon
The end of night
Which she assures me will never come
As long as I am looking at the world through my own eyes
I ask to borrow hers
She screams
And cowers in her house
Licking her fingers clean
I cry, a single tear,
(I was misunderstood)
And continue on my way
The woods play tricks on my eyes as I walk through them
Shifting stalks
They forbid me to speak
But whisper continuously
To me
About me
Bitter little barks
I pick up two broken sticks
And use them for legs
I take my ears off and put them in my new pockets
The trees scowl, that they have lost their audience
The forest bursts into an open field
I return my ears
And set my legs aside
The cricket song reaches out, tells me I am home
But I know they lie
The field stretches endless before me
I have no wish to cross it
So I sit and wait,
For my husband, my body,
And wonder what form they might take
A hare bounds up from a hole in the ground, near where I laid down my legs
He scratches his ears and vomits a scrap of paper
(He didn’t have my pockets)
He waits for no response and is gone
It is a message from my groom
He has found another
Because who could marry someone who cannot keep their head?
But my body has made the trip at least
So I put myself back together and face the endless field
It is a road now
But still, without end
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