L'aura del Campo

In your coldest nightmare

In your coldest nightmare

for Lily

You flap wings and fly through deep caverns. A wolf whimpers in vain. You do not answer. Frost scampers out of your way as you pass. Your wings bring winter. An old man cries out! Go home. You breathe hailstones. His nostrils fall off. The cave mouth's mother is your womb, your tomb. She tells you to leave her to rot. Warm winds blow you out. You seek shelter in the Alps. Mont Blanc says you look beautiful. You ignore him and fly to the moon. Your father is waiting. He's not amused. You're late. Where is your date? Go back and get him. You cry. You know it's a trap. Crystal tears drop on the Alps. You move to Lyon, to Toulouse. They find you in Paris. Two rats snarl and grab your baguette. You bash at their tails. They lead you into Temptation, a fine chocolate shop. You drink tea with the queen and prime minister. Italy! they exclaim and make you ambassador. On the way, Mount Blanc awaits and opens his mouth. You fall into a crevice and lie there for centuries. You wake up. The queen's lost her head. Your father's still waiting. Your mother's still bitter. Your cave has become a tourist hot spot. You want to die and you would. If only you could.

© Kåre Enga 2009.december.02 [#97] [166.329+?]

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