when i was cast as hippolyta in a midsummer night's dream i was surprised by her. a prize of war caught in a story of mixed up worlds and raging sexual energy, whose use of language is sparse and deep and second tongued. i needed to know what happened between her and theseus. how did she get here? here's my version of that unspoken tale: written for jy murphy (my theseus) and emilie faucher to notice how lichen and grasses never give up in despair -1- i was matching my toes to the sounds of leaves. quiet leaves of dark green. huge leaves have a stench. the perfume of bogs. rotted wood. and curls of ferns. audible echoes of creatures. the pulse of beasts all cautiously walking within the emerald mass humid noise. i crept. listening for threat – and – forget in my folly amongst the little stones and half-open debris from oldens long fallen from the centuries. a silent journey where lost thoughts are narrowed to your senses. i topple and balance. leap. and smack the leaves with my hands pushing the palms like springs. coil. rumble. somewhere near. stop. hear. signal. from an animal. behind me like a snail’s shell, my woman clutches and crouches concurrently. surely, the green will cover our spines. no more silent thoughts with the moist ground. i signal. she follows. our bodies tense. searching with our ears. ready to flee or fight if need be. slowly, my women come, smelling the thick palms. thick with dread. thick with the air. hovering. hovering in danger. i catch their eyes and nod. command. come. something is about to happen. we are not prepared for this. my women are not prepared for this…… dragon appearing -2- watchful. we move. there is an enormous rubber tree, which stands staunch among the deep leaves. this is the best shelter for such a questionable hour. straining. bodies. breathing. heat of a group. as i peer with staccato like grace over the skin of the trunk- spot. shields. shiny. the empire of men. i pull back. reach behind me with years of skill and with precision i prepare my bow and arrow. my women wait. arrows taught in the wire. arms extended. anticipating sharp points in flight. i lunge from the tree and rigidly aim in the heartiest angle of my elbow. i shoot. square. the empire scatters. my women howl war. the men make it round the rubber tree. one reaches for me. from the small of my back i draw my dagger. thrust it into his stomach and pulled the blade through his rib cage. they back away… as i run…. 34,873 miles home -3- legs like deer galloping like gazelles in fear of lions. i caught one. grabbed hold. pulled him to the side of my frame and yanked his chin like a sacrifice. exposing his neck. the vulnerability of his nape. his veins. i could break it like this. i could break it like this. the look in his eyes. the sound of his breath. caught. eyes wild in amazement and fear. his chest heaving. his mouth suspended open. i whip out my dagger. hold it tight to his throat. i’ll tear it from his torso. i stop. access the situation. moment to think. collecting. in this position of immediate power. the men are too close. my women too weak…. i held there. hanging between the spirit and the spart. this interlude i look to the man at my mercy. to the men at my side. one catches my eyes. he bore a message. held it in his compassionate gaze. floated it warmly into the holes of my soul. who is this man. with the beautiful blue eyes. oh. for him i would let go of my grip. for him i would spare this life. for him i would drop the world and run from this force. with one quick thrust i rip open the throat and throw the corpse to the ground and run alone i don’t know what happened then…… chaos angels -4- seized. i reach for the dagger at my heels and leap toward the man with the pale blue eyes. he clasped my wrist and with one swift flip i am over his shoulder. like a slain deer. ah, so easily taken. so weakly overthrown. i struggle. the men cheer. the empire surrounds me. i reach for his face. he catches hold of my hand pulls my palm to his heart. the men spiral in. breathing heaving. chanting. i cannot slip my sweaty fingers from his grasp. there is no escape. the spiral covers their stiff fingers over mine. breathing still breathing breathing. his blue eyes staring. i feel the shape of his bones. the sweat on his skin. the heaving of his chest. the sweetness like stone walls dividing luscious lands. i want to rest. rest my hands on his heart. want to pull myself to the ridges of his spine. i am exhausted. my hair sticks to my face sweat races down my body like rivers along my veins. i will not give in i will not give in i will not give in. sunroadburn out -5- he smiles. women sing like angels. i pull my hand rip it from this bond and cock it. his high boned cheeks glistening. his light hair darkened and matted to his brow. i laugh. as we circle like rams. who are you gaze unwavering. i smile. i smile because we are such a match. a match of equals. i strike him. for my pleasure. i strike again. how dare you. i strike letting out discordant sounds of war. again and again i strike. he will not fight me. how dare you amuse yourself with my strength. my courage. my spirit will not be beaten because my body is exhausted. again i strike. he will let me wear myself down like water through canyons. strike. the empire of men closing in strike. chanting. the language of storms. as i am raising my hands…. to the city of dreams sweet with desire -6- strongly. slowly. cautiously,i lower my palms to their mouths. the hush rising past the bush all is silent as he moves. just close enough to brush against me the men taking every move in… and with his face with one swooping breath he inhales the smell of a queen the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me. i dropped to my knees. he. has won. the capture of hippolyta written by corey tazmania Comments are closed.
|
Authorcorey tazmania |