Showing posts with label Pandora. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pandora. Show all posts

Tuesday 3 May 2022

Gift


 Gift

 

Medea takes the lift

each floor a new betrayal

love’s knife sharp truth

across the throat

until there’s no one left

no one getting in no one getting out

no more hearts for sale

 

and now the doors won’t open

a lid on a box that is forbidden

and then the light goes out

so there are no walls no ceiling

only a floor she cannot trust

she might be rising she might be falling

she just might have disappeared

she puts a hand to her face

touches skin with skin

understands the weight of faith giving in

 

She’s Psyche perched upon the spire

waiting for the marriage beast

in the darkness for her husband’s breath

for Persephone’s beauty played upon a lyre

and she’s lost all hope of Pandora’s gift

she’s alone dissolving and becoming myth

 

she leaps upon the pyre  

Saturday 18 September 2021

What of the end, Pandora?


 








What of the end, Pandora?

 

Pandora returns to the kitchen late one night

unsure of what has brought her there

perhaps some troubled dream

that still haunts the 40-watt gloom

the lazy shadows that line the walls like maps

she leans on the back of a high wooden chair

and surveys the room the unwashed dishes

littering the table piled in the sink

the toys strewn across the floor

a naked doll in a shoe box

the fruit bowl a study in decay

but beyond the surfaces

and on a high shelf at the back

behind a bottle of Tesco’s whisky

is the jar the lid still screwed in tight.

 

The next day, sometime after two

in the garden on the rickety table

she sets down an apple the jar the bottle

and sits down throwing off her shoes

she lies back closes her eyes

can hear her daughter singing the blues

as she climbs the steps to the slide

she stretches out her hand to catch at the …

and as her sleeve rises up her arm

she sees the tattoo just below her wrist

“Gods’ Gift” her fingers pause …

 

Halfway through the whiskey the apple gone to core

she picks up the jar and puts it to her ear

wonders if it will purr like Schrödinger’s cat

she hears the beat of wings things borne

all that is left when all else escapes

takes flight flees a prisoner all but released

the dregs the lees there’s so little air to breathe …

 

What of the end?

She wipes the earth from her hands

but the dirt has been ingrained

she rubs at a spot but it won’t come out

the stain the prophecy the reading of the banns

the spreading of the pall

will these hands never be clean?

She empties the last of the whisky

over the grave

and as the rain begins to fall

she calls her daughter from a game

all too human

 

considers the torment of hope


Check out the following links

http://mural.uv.es/spricas/pandora.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat

http://nietzsche.holtof.com/reader/friedrich-nietzsche/human-all-too-human/aphorism-71-quote_d3cd42c76.html

https://www.yorknotes.com/alevel/english-literature/macbeth-alevel/study/plot-action/01210100_act-v-scene-1