Wilderness Interface Zone

by P. G. Karamesines

“Why do dragons keep maidens,” she asked,
“Not killing or eating them?  Why hoard
Them in caves and sleep while foolish maidens
Weep, wringing jewelry and dabbing pale
Gowns at their eyes?  It can bring no real pleasure.
Fell Dragon stokes inwardly its wizard fire
While Fair Maiden strums her lyre, lamenting
Yon Burnt Hamlet from whence she came.”

She put down the book and said: “Lately,
I’ve smelled sap rising in trees, seen flames
In petals, heard the bee squirm panting
Past pink ruffles of the cottage rose.
I feel sudden breezes on still days,
My eyes ripe, I look for the cock pheasant
To fly up from my heels when I walk 
The ancient hills through green seed grasses.”

And as she stood and went with book under arm:
“In a shop in the city there’s a boy with dark skin.
His eyes, they never waver when they take me in.
I would blush, but I am older than he is.

“Another working in the fields for my father
Carries the sun in him as he comes away.
When we talk, I look straight into his noon.
Then I shut my eyes against his ray.

“A third’s pride billows on his brow like a storm.
The shifting winds of his regard bluster
In his touch.  He blows cold, then he brews warm.

“What shall I do?” she said.  “What shall I say?
It’s as strange as fairytales, as dreams,
As my father in the barn among the horses.
My green faith dissolves to bream in a pond
Flitting from my glance for the rushes.
Desire wings me beyond the well-kenned paths.
I cannot get past its creature.  I fright,
I cry when the moon shakes her horns.
I mourn the new grass I once trod bare-soled.
All that I can see is smoke and gold.”