The Marquess’s Marchioness ascended the stairs
the dining room perched in the high tower
I struggled from step to step
perfectly placed to admire her gastrocnemius
and semimembranosus and of course her biceps femoris
then my knowledge of musculature nomenclature deserted me
I was tempted to fall back on a somewhat chauvinist compliment
but the mood of the house was against it..
this particular night
then turning the last square corner
the dining room stole my imagination
a trick of perspective or reality
the long table stretched away like a serpent’s slither
a marble plinth with a motif of writhing waifs
thirteen black candelabra dripping blood wax on their skin
my mind was almost silenced
my heart ticking to the dripping
my life entwined with the waifs’ pain and pleasure
