Marilyn Makes The Evening and The Hostess Is Nowhere To Be Found

Marilyn lifts herself from the paisley patterned chince
drifts langorously across the old grain, peeled shellac, wood floors
while the dinner party congregates and cajoles in the kitchen
tarnished pans and rustic handles give off a smell of
centuries passed
centuries lifted
old wood and bloom breezes
through chipped, painted sills
the wind it channels through the gap
leads me through the crowd
in and out through the back door into the darkness
that holds me true
out in the oppressive weight of the night
(you know that feeling when the silence
and darkness become deafening?)
I am freed
inside Simon speaks coily to a prospect named frederice
THey talk of business and culture but
their ultimate aim - subconciously speaking -
is wanton passion by the grasps of the hair and mean,
lustful teeth into soft flesh
But for the trist
for the courting
the small inuendos
the suggestive glances
the gentle touches
suggest

Out in the court
Marilyn lifts her hands to the sky
and chants to the past, present, future
In the cool night
the moon-soft breeze coarses in
and out of her glorious vessel
she breathes majick into the night
memories of past, present, future
she's lived this
and has never lived before
a slim reapeating of occurences
she can only put the tip of her soul on
Cernunnos arrives with quiet smoky availabilty
her inner chant brings him forth
In the leaves
his green essence flourishes
tells her of lost dirt paths
that led man to the center
to the middle of the road
she communes with the male
the spirit noble
The smell of fresh earth
washes over her face
her hands fall to her waist
she is bare from the waist up
her breast
radiant in the full moon glow
her skin untouched and
touched by centuries
maiden and crone all the same
it matters what level you perceive life
and where you are
it's all perception
is it antiquated?
is it new technology?
she is bathed in the cool
moon glow
she chants for forgiveness
of the race
the race no one wins
chants forgiveness
for their errs
their unknowing ways
destructive results
this all due to limited sight
and
inside, a baby crawls along the floor
the new mother chases her infant son
along wooden floor boards
outside Marilyn cries on high
laughs for spells
and the little spirits
under the leaves
all the little things
wash away
they all wash away
with time
stones
smooth stones
under silent rivers