Behind the Office

Go behind the office, down a bank,
On through a woodland, hot and dank,
You come to a brook, low and winding,
A quiet brook, quite forgotten.
I sit there often, back to tree,
I sit and watch it slumber,
Taken by heat, taken by Summer,
Drugged by their embraces,
And there I dreamt a deadly dream
Of a day that's drawing near,
Of a man who crossed that stream
And lost all that he held dear.

Smokers stick close to the entrance,
Workers drive up, gape in the heat,
Then hurry from Spring to Autumn,
Air conditioned car to air conditioned desk.
No one notices the brook, except the once,
When unseen beaver flooded half the spaces,
No one but me, it's my escape when too confined.
The kingfisher skims from an old willow,
The sparrows bathe to beat the heat,
And on the other bank...
The entangled shopping cart, the vines, some trees...
I wonder dreamily what lies hidden...
What I might find...
Dream of the possibilities...
There can be no mysteries...
Listen to the steady hum of the highway...
It can't be far beyond the trees...
No mysteries...

Coiled as the summer afternoon, humid and wanton,
Looking to what lay beyond the horizon,
Looking to the storms sure to come,
She waited by the table, the table in the ruined kitchen,
The walls are cracked plaster and peeling paper
Hung with calendars old and yellow,
The only light - sun through broken window.
Silently she bent her head,
Considered the porcelain basin
Considered the water, dark and dead.
Did she see there her reflection?
Sweat on lip, sweat on forehead,
Hair tangled and golden,
Eyes a changing green,
Skin lit, an interior moon...
Idly she touched a finger to the water,
A dimple formed in its still surface,
She looked at what it mirrored
Looked at what she'd altered.
She took a length of white linen,
Rinsed it in the dark water,
Wrapped it 'round her form,
Cool and to look at - Grecian
Calm as the moon of a summer evening.

Of a sudden, a glimpse of white,
It caught his eye, like focused sunlight,
As quickly it vanished from sight.
A rock, a wheel rim,
A short jump and he'd crossed.
Behind him - the weeds, the brush,
The parking lot, the office.
Before him, ah, the unknown, the chase.
What'd he seen? Where'd it gone?
On to a clearing, a clearing of weeds and grass,
Thistle, goldenrod and Queen Ann's Lace,
Trees and stream on three sides,
On the fourth - the road beyond a fence.
Bees flew silently about the weeds,
Their sound lost to the highway,
And in the trees, half hidden in brush,
A ruined frame house,
Porch sagging, boarded windows.
White as distilled heat in its doorway
Waited a woman, surely his quarry holed.
"Come in, come in," she called
Then as he drew near,
"This was once my farm and home,"
A wave at the highway,
"Now, it's just the place I stay."
She took his hand and bid him enter,
In my dream I knew him eager.

In my dream, in the kitchen,
He stood by the table, by the basin,
And she in the doorway,
The hunter and the hunted.
In a voice, soft and warm, she spoke,
"My guest, my guest, what gift,
My guest, what gift do you bring to me?
Look in my bowl, my guest, and see.
Bend your head
Look in the water,
The water cold and dead!"
And as he looked,
"Your youth, your youth,
Your youth's the gift you bring to me!"
In he reached and there in his hand -
A ring gleamed cold and bright.
When he'd slipped it on her finger
Of his youth he was quite free.

"My guest, my guest, what drink,
My guest, what drink do you serve to me?
Look in the bowl, my guest, and see!
Bend your head
Gaze in the water,
The water cold and dead!
Your mother and father,
Your sister and brother,
They're the drink you'll serve to me!"
He took a cup, sank it in the water,
The water dark and dead,
Then offered it dripping wine,
Wine of a vintage rare and fine,
When she'd drained it's dregs,
And some'd dribbled down her chin,
His mother and father, his sister and brother,
What were they to him?

"My guest, my guest, what meat,
My guest, what meat do you serve to me?
Look in the bowl, my guest, and see!
Bend your head,
Gaze in the water,
The water cold and dead."
He wept at what he saw.

"My children and home
My children and home,
They're the meat I serve to you."
By the bowl lay a bloody steak,
Rare, smoking with perfection,
This he tore and fed to her
And when it was eaten,
Even the bone,
His children and home
He cared no more for them.

"My guest, my guest, what fun
My guest, what fun do you bring to me?
I'm bored, my guest, some entertainment I decree!
Look in the bowl, look in the bowl, my guest, and see!"
He bent his head,
He gazed in the water,
The water cold and dead,
"We'll dance," she cried,
"How we'll dance and dance and dance!"
A city stretched through the room,
A city as seen at night,
Bright with countless lights,
A monument to creativity and might.
As they danced (how he held her tight)
Dust rose from that basin
From the water cold and dead.
The city about them, it lay trampled in ruin
And he couldn't remember a single thing
He'd ever done that was worth doing.

"My guest, my guest, come lie
My guest, come lie 'long side of me!
I'll show you such a night!
Just look, my guest, just look in the bowl
See what by art and tongue shall arise
See the pleasures that shall be!"

As he lay, held captive by her thighs,
A bell began to peal.
With a shout I'm awake,
Spent upon the grass,
An ache in every bone,
Uncertain what is real.
Once more I'm beside the brook,
The tree behind my back,
Never've I felt more alone,
Never've I felt such despair,
There's nothing left for which I care.
There's the ringing of my phone,
"Hey where are you!
The meeting's just begun."

At the soccer field, late that afternoon,
I find you on the stands, sitting with a friend,
You look just as good as you did way back when.
"Doesn't look like they're gonna win,"
You say as I get near, then "Yikes,
What's up with all those mosquito bites?"
I stand and watch the children run,
Hot and flushed in the setting sun,
Surrounded by shouts and cheers,
Surrounded by contagious enthusiasm,
I think how I cross that stream
Twice every day and sometimes more
On a bridge I've never seen.
"I had a dreadful dream," I begin -
"Be quiet! Look! They're gonna score!"

Today I dreamt a deadly dream
Of a time that's drawing nigh,
I watched a man cross a stream -
And dreamt that man was I.