Eth

Eth was a dreamweaver, one who could leave her body and step across the stars, in Louise Lawrence’s 1998 young adult novel, Dreamweaver. I read it when sometime between the ages of 8-10, and Eth has stuck with me ever since.

Red girl – and I mean girl, for I
was young and could only begin
to imagine you – red dream girl
projecting yourself into me
from the page, but also across
galaxies, to warn me not to come –
You were held in supple halos
of redness. Your smooth hair was long
and now I see it in the hair

of my friend, who is a bullet of
a woman. I see your hair light
until all the hair I now know
or once knew began in this thought.
I remember you so vaguely –
you are the first friend who I lost
and the first one to draw from me
the structures of love. I was young
and now I am young again. Old

is the way you recur to me.
I half expect god to return
in your form. I sat with the books
on the blue grey carpet, felt it
drain the blood from my palm leaving
the impression of weave, and you.
Did my teacher remark at this
sudden silence brought on? Sighing,
I remember you. Please come back

The Darkness Metaphor

Vessel:Morticia:Loc:Crossing-Centauri-Gulf
Ledger:Captain’s-Poetic-Communication-Allocation#23

++So you talk to me of comfort/my friend
and darkness/well I’ve this- –
if the endlessness of our darksky
were placed against them/I
would mark it as a grain of dust
hanging in their beam of sunlight
on a summerday’s comfort/
gleaming ironmetal to its rust++
They are as darkness to me/how it flies
curving out at equal speed to my light
as we lie together sweating sparks of touch- –
they are my eclipse/my thunderstorm
my oceandeep gloom, my envelope++
They are the stranger standing in the room
who disappears on waking++
They are my dark/they are my gloaming ++
They are not sound/but silence/after chatter
shook violentwise the eardrum and composed
a mindset to accept the wind and void++
They are not caress/ but lack of touch
on a breathless day under unfeeling sun
when all the cares of our space burn into my skin
in noise and fury++You see/Gomez/
You grade things wrong when you throw this out::
We measure all things, and give them measure++
It might be right to prefer the finale/and doom
To the end of the connection/holding in storm
The weatherfronts of myself and them++
They are my welcome gloom++