Calibos takes Andromeda from her sleep,
The Clash of the Titans, 1981
The steel playground slide collects at its base
rainwater that is warm as a pool
of seawater in the sunlight
left over by the tide.
Lush green trees are heavy with hawthorn;
perfect pearl throws.
On the electricity pole
the single crow
on a corner of wire that forms a square;
the north, the south, the east and the west.
The swallows dive pulling heart chariots;
The sky vacantly journeys aided by twilight
and abetted by the moon.
In the middle of the night I awaken
to scurrying sounds that rise up
from below through the open window.
“Who is it?” the owl calls. “What do you want?”
Paralysis starts in the feet, travels
upwards coldly gripping calves.
Tumbling through darkness
I disturb fixed stars that startled
fall in glitter showers
in a world where trees drag their roots
across the swamp,
where voices are echoes,
where he fawns over his own reflection
in a pool adorned with vines
that are caressed by his arm’s stump.
When the fire dawn birds call
I am picked up in talons
and returned to the cauldron of morning.
And I never remember who he was,
my captor, nor what he wanted
except that some dark part
of my soul questioned
and he answered.
Orla Fay is the editor of Boyne Berries Magazine. Her poetry has been published in Boyne Berries, Crannog, Abridged, The SHOp, North West Words, The Linnet’s Wings, The Stony Thursday Book, Orbis, Carillon, Shot Glass Journal and Silver Blade Magazine, among others. She is a Forward prize nominee and she keeps a blog at http://www/orlafay.blogspot.ie