Oxyacetylene-eyes
crave to flame-throw ire
but if there is one thing Harper knows
it is how to bide time.
.
Up!
.
The Bully demands
as Harper - ngghh, manfully struggles to stand,
shock having ahem, unwomaned her.
The entrailing beams hold no weight,
no, none - whatsoever
but the sight
lends lead to her fear.
She quivers as fish will s h i v e r
when trident
ruptures silvery skin.
She is both harp and
and harness-harpooned
and Fear urges urgent surging
to sunder.
.
This is your Harp,
the bullying spider elucidates.
Connected to Heart.
Connected to Stars.
Grounded to Earth.
Magnifier of Power.
Do you understand?
.
Harper nods, dazed and dizzied.
.
It is a Great Gift.
One long denied.
Will you Play now
or will you succumb
to Madness again?
.
I will play, Harper accedes quaveringly
not because you
will it but because I
Will it.
.
That is exactly as it should be.
.
Yet you may not like my playing?
.
You will play what you feel prompted
to play. Whatever asks to be, should be.
There is no right or wrong way. All ways
are fitting IF the one who plays is Connected.
And you will have guidance.
.
Guidance? From you?
Oh dear. Hum. No. No. No. They
will aid. I will watch. All will wait.
.
Harper peers up, sceptical.
The comets are strung-leashed
like fireflies
a wicked child has thorax-threaded.
They will aid, she repeats, for comfort
then raises strong hands
designed for Power.
She plucks a note, shyly
experimentally cautious.
The note leaps out eager a sudden-flung firework
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, it sighs
as it resonates
climbs.
Comets tighten leashes, alive to arrival
towing Harper en-pointe
her flesh electrified
and ahhhhhhhhhhh, she joins in
perfect counterpoint
while waves of sound float mermaid hair,
Sargasso-like.
As the sound recedes, leaves
for distant shoes
comets list and Harper sags, tired-elated.
That, she whispers, was one
one lone lonely note.
.
Indeed,
rumbles the Arachnid
and look what you have wrought.
.
Eyes blurred, heart full-filled
Harper gazes where spider gestures
then she frowns,
mystified.
Have stars
fa l l e n from sky?
Do they slink in now,
encircle?
She riffles unwanted tears
shakes head, refocusses, more gentle -
No, nothing celestial
but a constellation, nevertheless
a creeping glinting of
innumerable
eyes.
