I fell before the tomb of Ninus.
Unwashed, skin cracked and chafed,
lips dry and bleeding,
half drunk, and unrequited of love
I rose, but stumbled like a child.
A white mulberry tree swayed in the light breeze,
sprouting before a ferocious concrete lion,
mouth agape and teeth bloody from the hunt.
With each breath, the beast spit fire into the calm, gentle sky.
He had a twisted smile and opiate wings
which stretched ominously for miles
and caused shadows to pool into tar pits
across the dewy grass.
Ominous though he was, there was an invitation in his eyes,
an offering of shade beneath the mulberry.
Weary as I was, I immediately relented.
Still unable to walk, I crawled like a child,
dragged myself by inches,
until I rested securely beneath the tree…
And, lo, the tree it put me in a trance
for little silkworms all began to dance!
The worms were alien marionettes
swinging restlessly from their tender silk strings,
painted lime green with flecks of grey.
They danced a perverted waltz in silence
save the crackling flames leaping into the air
as the great concrete beast exhaled.
He was ever beguiling, yet let no roar escape his lips.
The voice of the mulberry broke the silence, whispering gently:
“Eat, eat…”
Hypnotized, spirals spinning in my eyes,
I plucked a silk worm, stopping his dance,
laying his squirming body upon my tongue.
I did not chew and the worm survived.
From inside all my pink did turn to white.
The little creature bade me, “Do not fight.”
I leaned back with a sigh onto the tree’s trunk.
The silkworms still danced in the silence,
yet I could hear the creature inside me
spinning tiny socks to house my organs,
Where once I had felt the sting of my eroded intestines,
where once I heard the shriek of my imperiled liver
and the voice of my love beating in my heart;
where once there had been burning and ache
I now felt silk…
My insides no longer contracted,
they did not lament.
They simply lay dormant in fresh spun silk
as I rested against the mulberry tree.
As sleep threatened to overtake me
I saw a figure approaching in the distance.
The lion, with a low rumble, took a single step toward the stranger.
For see, the lion was not there for me,
but waited for the lovely Thisbe.
She was draped in fine vales,
a smile spread wide and glowing across her face.
She picked at flower petals chanting,
“He loves me, he loves me not…”
and I choked on her words
even as a numb calm crept over my body.
The lion,
that familiar concrete beast,
stepped toward her, snarling,
brandishing his bloody teeth.
Her smile was swept away into the ether
and the poor girl ran.
As she did the breeze caught her veils
and they fell softly into the dirt before the beast.
The animal spit his fire triumphantly
as though a great victory had just been achieved.
I felt sick as memory began to take me.
I looked down upon my stomach
to see a sword buried to its hilt.
My attempt to scream was choked by silk.
Though housed in silk, my sorrow would be endless.
for, lo, I was the ghost of Pyramus.
The mulberry enveloped me within its tender leaves
as I wept at the shrinking figure of my love.
Dear Thisbe, I was here for you,
yet my rash decision shall forever keep us apart.
I died with my honor as a Roman
before the tomb of Ninus,
my heart filled with your sweet love.
I shall pine for you eternally,
I shall relive the evening of our tragedy every day.
Thisbe, the gods shall honor us
and I shall wait for you
in the ruby red of mulberry leaves.
(If you've never heard the story, here's a summary of the tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe: http://www.shmoop.com/pyramus-thisbe/summary.html)
