HASTEN THIS
FUCKING
ARRIVAL
I genuflect to Death, as it arrives holding a
ten-card deck : four jokers and a king,
three queens, an ace and a five. On the
back of each card, a secret marking
from the Pyramid of Cheops or something
like it; matter I never understand, charm I
never find charming at all. The man with the
powder keg holds in his hand a fat cigarette.
He threatens to light it and blow me to
smithereens. It sounds crummy, and yet.
-
I go with the angels, I ride with the Gods.
My army is an army of tyrants, all of them
singing praise for every myth that ever was.
The King's own wife, his Henrietta Moire, comes
to my chambers to disrobe. We make mad
love for fourteen hours, long, slow, unevenly
and dense. When we are done, I am so tired
I could die. When the King finds out, he wants
to help; but my life is saved by Henrietta's words:
'He really meant nothing at all by what he did.
He's infatuated by his time and his riches.'
No comments:
Post a Comment