She opened strange doors

The spirits of these singers have been haunting me lately; and Sannion wrote a poem. the two seem to have occasionally collided.

The House of Vines

I take your hand,
soft and delicate
as a dove’s wing,
but with the purity, strength,
and courageous spirit
of the castrati animating it
and we step through the mirror
and find ourselves in Paris
watching Orphée et Eurydice
amid a crowd of shadowy figures
with blank white masks
where they should have faces,
but do not.
And beside us,
as if he’d been there all along,
is Arlecchino with his long, lithe dancer’s legs
stretched out over the seat in front of him.
He turns to grin at us
and we see ourselves reflected in the
mirror shards where his eyes should be,
except everything in that place is opposite here,
backwards and behind the curtain territory.
His mad grin widens
until his large mouth seems ready
to split in half,
and then he let’s out a tittering laugh,
then holds his too long,
too white finger
up to…

View original post 62 more words

Advertisements

Posted on April 15, 2017, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: