ASPASIOLOGY
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Max Goodwin in Response to Sarah B. Boyle

.
The cunning folks' meadow is where she left the lupine

buried in soft sand beneath the snoggers’ bough,

no trace of the salt, the circle of hands broken--

in Gowdie's borough where the doctor's boy's horse was hitched

for five days before anyone noticed there were his knuckles

sunken in clay sand at the meeting of red cedars, his jaw

gone as most of his parts.  Fly agarics haunched encircled,

skyclad, here they reach for one another; this one swayed

as she gathered her henbane, there overlooking is a small cloudy whatsit

the transient Apple Demon of the kneegrass clearing, overhead heavy

ironwood where at equinoxes the sisters of the fold sit and howl; staves

lose want here, the crease of the cedars toward the shallows

where the lost-eyes follow in covine brookside toward warrens

and dens, a sawtooths' dam filters her divinely.  The current

knows what it carries, mouth of the river governing water across

its gummy banks awash with her and the memory of initiation.

There upon the rivers' edge, hand below

bare feet, one on head, lupine in five heeled

star, circle of salt, Auld One observe--
 
             Thou most cume, wulfe gode, Ond
             Howleth what with mine voyce,
             Dawne never come unlesse biddeth
             By wille of thou, O wulfe gode, Ic giveth
             Alle mine sylf to thee, who possede thisse woode,
             And that whych I holde betwixt mine hands
             Haer and Haer.
 
Heaven took no heed, nor hell,

and the rotating worm clod

sat still without Margaux,

malefaction nonplussed her thought

gashed brow, sitting Apple Demon gurgling,

his moistened snickering flapped contumely

through his facial hole:

Still thy soul--presumest me thou needest aid
in the art of conjuration; lay thee down thine ear
and I shall abide thee with the proper invocation.
 
A sharp slate shard produced by his miniscule hand extended offered the girl her chance at satisfaction.
Her ear abruptly rendered lay before the demon leftward leaning who fondled the bond of his transaction.  
He spoke:

The Wolf God heeds not the common herbalists' discretions.
Lupine is a pleasing name, but given to a plant by humans.
How quaint thy prayer, but incense to a demiurge,
an affront to their station; Yield me thy good ear--
To satiate thy Primal assemble cords of ash and burn
them in thy hovel, atop the conflagration a tribute
in supplication whereupon the God will sate
herself when called—she will hunger--the journey
from thence requires a small amount of recompense:
an abominable conception.  Send a missive to thy sister;
Uncannily wilt thou notice me at the hour of her giving birth
in lieu of further needless interaction, mine sparrow will oversee
thy deed’s completion.  Release thy sister’s coldborn youth
by placing him amid the blazing fire with thine wish inscribed
on vellum.  For thy bidding a marvelous ink, write with this,
burn the letter, ‘twill be impossible to resist.  Adieu,
and when again we meet, I shall stand upon two feet.
 
               Deoree Suster Edvige:
 
               Ic encountered thee most estrange speara in tha meadowe
              fallowed me by somme tricke to mine cottage, stayes inna tha kitchen--



​Max Goodwin writes and teaches in San Jose, CA.  He earned his MFA at SJSU, where he hosted a radio show featuring local writers (and sometimes bands).  His ultimate goal is to form a gothic art and gaming collective in Costa Rica, or something.  Follow him @cervixexternal.  

Follow on Twitter or email Gertrude And:


Email

aspasiology@gmail.com
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