A Cellular Life #7…

uffington and rollright 088(photo – Sue Vincent)

… Now she was out in space my Soul had turned astronomical on me. I decided to give her free reign, as much rope as she wanted. Enough for a thousand and one hangings…

“The Water Maiden has sacrificed her heavenly wings and impregnable habit for a dip in the river. She is naked as the morn and splashing about like a new born pup in the wending, silver white … She is carefree and happy…
…Radiant as a flying fish or a sated frog. The trees along the river bank transform their branch tips into shimmering leaves, leaves which dance about fruit ripening into bright stars… in a sigh… arching resplendently into the blazing heavens…”

She swayed up close, parted my lips, and entered my mouth…

“The eighth and final star to accost the sky is a misfit, stark and black as the cold dark space her Pilgrim has spent his whole life traversing… The birds quiver from their nests, with a croak, as the hours relinquish his body: a sheaf of dead skin shivering away in a twisting spiral of rainbow tails which surge and bubble: kiss gurgling fingers made shiny little fish, gulping protest against the air, silvering into the freedom of the current…”

I was glad to hear from her, of course I was… but she was going too fast…

“Hi – Ho – He rises… Old Nick rejuvenated, borne aloft on Neptune’s scaly shoulders… Tumbling back down to earth with a dull thud…
…As an acorn nestles firmly into the sandy bank.”

“What about memories?” I asked… confused.

“The heart of love is a dove enmeshed in memory.
Her wing-tips are sticky with life.
Your heart-beat is bodily proof of your own yearning to fly.”

Without waiting for a response she flitted off again.
I just caught sight of her tail disappearing into a cloud…

The Lost Novel

uffington and rollright 085(photo – Sue Vincent)

3 thoughts on “A Cellular Life #7…

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