Dancing with Diana

Garbs not in yellow nor sallow were the apparel in which saw me eye from the place which me feet now haunt time and again – were they just peddlers for they seemed to me, or am I rushing to so? Am I? were they wise men for hark what they talked! Talked they of motherly love in the air. Indeed, motherly love. Alas! Where was mine? Where, where! Down the stairs close to a fire built by herself you say? Oh I hear you rightly. Do not remind me. She sits by the fire; she is merely two stairwells away from where I stand now. Remind me no more. I desire to see these men walk down the wet carpet of the road leads that to my lane so easily. Quietly they speak. Alas! I don’t know is none supposed to hear them. Heck! I heard them! I will beg for mercy, pardon me my majesty of all trades! But I wish to buy what thee sell for free. Here, give some blindness, oh some blindness to me. I beg for lenity. See me – a body of not the same, but some other skin. I implore for thee to condone my act so irreverent. I do not ask for more.

May I have thine time for seconds few? In a shake will I enquire and give years and years to you for a speech am I dying to hear. May thee hear me apologize oh! lest in vain I die. What is it you say? Speak louder for am I suddenly so deaf. What do you say, yes you gallant gentleman of high fortitude? I heard you say marriage. What about my knot, my marital knot? Where my man, where stays he? In a single shot he summons someone in his hoopla’s ring. What was it that uttered thy lips a moment back? Don’t thee lie to me. I saw thine lips shiver! Or was it the cold? Yes, it could be for sure. You see, hath mine not ceased to quiver at the bones. Perhaps, ‘tis frailty and nothing more in me. Is it not? Oh I know thee agree. You nod so well. Lackaday!

Oh holy Lord, they move not. How stern they act do You see? Shall I be on the knees? I will pray the vespers quite right. Am I here to smile on the display of porcelain china. I had my meal of the day if it pleases you so. I pray and I pray. What it was thou ask? Did I chew for I do hath teeth, or did I let a strudel down the bathroom sink? Will I answer but must I ask with not a soupcon of insolence for hath I sought room in the lines of leather of thy shoes my husband. But must I ask – how dare thee! Where found you this strength do I need for me? Will thee give it to me? Alright, I must catch pace ere is my time no more. ‘Twas a soup in green, not emerald nor a bottle green verdure of my garden did I lose my innocence in, and on it – spheres of mother-of-pearl from the seashells I secretly stole. Hah! How they laugh at me from the gruel! ‘Twas a soup thick, ah! was it thick not rugged. My wonder how for thou see, it had stones in it. My shiny spoon with silver sheen, reflecting the cerise in my eyes now and then.

My wonder – does the light come from you my Charles? Alas! I called thee mine. I did, I did, I did. Am I in the mind of Plath tonight. Hath they adorned the edge with elderberry in deep turquoise did me sky not wear today. Oh! How I missed it must I say! Berries and plumps in red rage of color, or do I see them hence only? Am I angry? Leaves of lettuce, sprinkled on my soup, green it is a little more, and red oh so much! I will rush quickly anon. I will run very soon. Show me the way out of the dining room. Please do not take an umbrage I beg, but can I not bow on me knees. Please forbear if kisses your tongue a taste of abhorrence for me. Spit it I say! Spit it right away! Will you, please? Beg I not for forgiveness, oh no! Beg I for thy ears. Art they so reluctant to hear me. Think thee I whisper when I think I scream; art you standing akimbo, oh my! That is not royal husband. Improve unless thee be summoned aside. Mayhap, will thee remember me there. I will not be standing next, but with you. How else hah! How else may I please you so? Must I know. Tell me! Tell me alas! MUST I KNOW!

Am I on the terrace of the house. I repeat for I should address leastways for a princess I am under this fall of flashes.

My majesty, my madam and the king with the crown, to you all I bow. ‘Tis more of something else, does less of my reverence show; ‘tis more from the weight of the crown on my head. See, don’t I wear it well? Leave it, spurn it, repudiate my echelon with a click of your thumb against any finger of yours. I too care not for this crown anymore. I am sauntering and then moving back – to the ledge I walk and revert my feet to the door just as quickly. I steal a glimpse of the stairs that run downstairs.

Someone’s voice, some smoke of black and grey, two shadows now stir the paint on the wall. Hither and thither runs the hue uneven – ah! the creases of the quilt from the bed; here thick and there thin the sallow shade – an embroidery of an unknown design from a linocut; On the red veil of thy kerchief, yes, I see the tapestry there – the lint captivating my eyes shut. How come I ponder for was the yellow dress lying on the street just now. “Who’s there?” shall I ask, or “Is someone there” should I speak instead? Two shadows now dancing, ruining the mural with the calico of their clothes. Oh lie I not! I promise. ‘Tis truth I speak – a pinch on the skin of my neck. How else Charles? How else mother queen? How else father king? Am I left to enquire only my kids. Mustn’t they hear my grumble in the bolster at night, not one scream in the woods, nor know of any visits to my room. Is the door always ajar – a crack keeping it always open. Must I let you in, but alack! ‘tis their footsteps I hear – Harry my boy! The stitches feel tight on the lips now. I am the prima donna in gory blood. I sing of Wales. I sing of us. I hear his footsteps again. Closer is he now. Is he just out the my din? Shall I name my child? Shall I let him in?

Persists my feet forward. I am astonished. ‘Tis a surprise how – you see, is not an ounce of perseverance within, yet continue my feet like thump, thump, thump and so on they trample – ah! carrying my body with them, Every part shaking in trite terror and parlous pain. Likewise moves the air around me. Hark! I hear the crackle of a fire. Has anyone built one close by? Am I warm, but swelter. Behold! I see fire in my neighborhood. Is it that cold today? Then why art thou not home yet? I see them, swooning and swerving over the pebbles on the concrete ceiling – its face only made of cement and silt and those pearls from my plate, pricking me feet from underneath. Shall I also bleed from the ends of who I am? Shall I? My blood runs cold in the vein tonight. I see, art the flames not enough. Am I not warm.

Burn me a little more. Is my coat on silver silk with ribbons tied upfront, they hang about my waist in a single bowline. These fumes from down the steps can I not descend incite me. Lackaday! art me fingers furious indeed. Alas! Alas! is my bodice berserk under my coat drenched in mauve. I wear it still, I wear it still – ‘Tis its color that keeps me alive until use I some digression with a man who walks by. On wheels in number of two, they carve circles in the air of my lane. Art they big. Can they swallow? On wheels in a shade of black he rides, and divert my eyes to another house. Heck! Am I now a peeping Tom? When did I become so? When oh my dear Charles? Think of what keeps me company when cherish thee another’s arms.

Art thou not envious anymore? Deny and I will strip myself naked of this coat I wear on my shoulders, burning fiercely in this rain for there’s a sudden shower; deny and will I pose the best wife I can, dance a waltz with my shadow to eat the seconds I so wistfully waste; deny but do not; I will delude meself to deem the coat anew. I don’t want to – a shelter of so many doves amidst the field had it been, the vest of a scarecrow. I dance. Oh I dance already. Do you see me? Don’t turn thy eyes dear.

See me! One, two, three… One two three – Hither my step, thither I flinch. One, two, three… One, two, three – Stumbling at the centre my legs and spinning my head around on the edge. Art thee still blind? May thou be. May thou be so I will speak of the colors I behold – art they azure, silver and green. Stars yonder! What stars! Oh. Scenery merely I spectate through the tears in my eyes and glaze of glasses I behold in the distant street lights. Let alone bother the sight of my boys now. Harry I shout. Will William be let in too. I dance more on the corner, leaving so much space empty and untouched. I am not hiding. I am not hiding I say. They see me, don’t they?