Wake, Siren
Page 8
* * *
Jove saw the suffering and it panged him. It wasn’t guilt that chewed his conscience. The gods exist without regret. Something beautiful was less so. So he schemed to save me.
* * *
Mercury, murder Argus for me, he said. Kill the cruel watchman.
* * *
Mercury winged his way to the hill. Shepherd-dressed. He played pan pipes to try to lull all Argus’s eyes to sleep. When one set of eyes got drowsy, another set lifted its lids. Mercury stopped the song and talked instead. Told the history of the pipes he played, about Syrinx and her sisters. It’s this—the tale, the words, the story—that lowered all of Argus’s lids. The words worked. As soon as Mercury saw that Argus had drifted, the wing-heeled god grabbed his scythe.
* * *
The head bumped down the hill. Blood marked its trail. The hundred eyes blinked light dark light last sight the sky the ground the stars a swirl, eyelashes up, down, low, long night came to Argus, rest for the rest of time. Terrible to see: all his eyes were open, low, and they saw nothing.
* * *
But Juno saw it all.
* * *
She took the hundred eyes and spread them in the feathers of the peacock tail that pulled her chariot. Blind but iridescent.
* * *
What else?
* * *
She flicked her fingers and a Fury like a biting horsefly attached itself to my eyes. Low I raced and swung my head, pressed my face into the dirt. It bit and stung. I lashed and ran. Panted. Cantered. People moved away, a one-white-cow stampede. Wild-eyed crazed and wanting only for all of it to end.
* * *
Ran ran ran ran mad.
* * *
Bleached shadow on the world. Valleys hills forests meadows dawns days rains nights noons dawns suns dawns noons days clouds moons moons moons.
* * *
Spit-flecked jaw foamed white like the milk and the stars white like the absence of everything white the color of obliteration. And a cow with an Io inside but gone. So deep and small inside and a creature thuds across the world trying to escape the bites on the eyes, eyes gone white like the cow like the moon low and the whole world is an empty dark for the white to move through like a boundless cloud low the white cow is found in the desert the sun bleaching it to a white that blinds.
* * *
White wound moving through the world lakes storms apple pear plum oak elm owl the white cow is only a moving shifting pain. A desert. A river.
* * *
The language the absence the meaning and relief low it’s being galloped after
* * *
In the world let me in, in the world let me out, let me leave, let me empty my one own low breast of its milk, into the river, let it be the sweep of stars, hey you, the bear, I see you burning white, I want to feed you with my milk, soothe you, fuel you, keep burning!
* * *
Want the world to pour out of me, want the milk emptied out of me, into the great wide white river made of milk. To flow low and low
* * *
A place beyond the pain made of milk, a milk with seed and yolk, all the possible lives inside it, a place past pain, passed pain, past form
* * *
Form low moves moves again, new forms stories and
* * *
Origins out of the cow low white like the nothing and the all the all
* * *
The voice inside Io Io Io endlessness silence
* * *
Wild mind and the stories told low without words in the blind eyes in the absence low low
* * *
The world made of sand and and and low the dune moon stars in the milk drink it drink it I know you’re hungry I know you’re thirsty you want it you want it low the river won’t end so much milk from my one own low breast. Drink from it. Taste the endlessness eternity all over low it presses in on all sides all times
* * *
all time in all directions
and we are in the middle of it
* * *
The gods don’t die low Juno Jove, Jove begs Juno, let her go, I am yours, low lie, for all time and it moves her because love blinds us makes us believe and she says yes I trust I believe she can go
* * *
And and and
PART III
I will try to speak simply. Now I was no cow. Girl to animal to god, in the desert on the side of the Nile. I was Io. I was a cow. I am Isis.
God is the voice inside that communicates without language through the dark expanse of time. The voice of god is the endlessness in you. The voice of god is silent and sensed at the edges.
So lie on your back in the woods with the birds and the birches the ripple of water milksap white tears like pearls bleed from the trees as one day gives way to another leaves on your skin and worms in the dirt and a spider in silk and a bear at a distance and a cow in the field and the reeds by the water and a spinning respinning story forms ongoing the origins annihilations that destroy the boundaries break the seed crack the egg and you again and again and again.
SCYLLA
Galatea lived across town at the time and she called me one afternoon and told me she’d fainted buying seltzer at the 7-Eleven. She’d been trying some fasting cleanse, hadn’t eaten anything but black tea for forty hours. “Could you come over?” she asked. Her voice sounded small. I stopped at the store on the corner, bought a pouch full of raisins and nuts, an apple, and a sandwich with mayonnaise and cheese. The sandwich was unbelievably beige, but it seemed like the right sort of color for the reintroduction of food.
I took a bus, and then walked quickly from the stop to her place. The magnolias had opened. The air smelled like bloom. At the door she looked wan, a sleepy smile on her face, a fuzz about the eyes. “Have you eaten anything yet?”
We climbed the stairs. “I just feel shaky,” she said.
We got to her bedroom and I laid out the options. We sat on her bed.
“What sort of sandwich is this?” she asked.
“Beige,” I said.
She opened it, took a triangle in her hands and bit a corner off, a tiny bite. She closed her eyes and ate it, slowly, and picked out the cashews from the pouch and a few raisins. “It’s all so good,” she said. “I feel kind of feverish though.”
“Let me brush your hair.”
We sat on her bed. She sat in front of me and I unbraided her black hair, and it shined down her back, past her shoulder blades. I held the wooden handle of the brush and took a stroke through her hair. “Is it a rat’s nest?” she asked. No, I said. I moved the bristles over her skull, she tilted her head back and made a quiet noise. I touched her neck as I collected her hair and saw the goosebumps rise on her shoulders.
We started to talk as I moved the brush through her hair and we found ourselves sharing stories we hadn’t ever shared. Maybe in this way brushing someone’s hair is like driving, the intimacy of a quiet closed space, no eye contact, the charge of nearness.
“I had a stalker,” she said.
“What happened?” I said.
“We met at the end of a party. Polyphemus.”
“The Cyclops?”
“Do you know him?”
“I know of him. I’ve seen him around.”
“We chatted for two minutes and he said something about wanting to show me this link about my hometown and asked me for my e-mail and I don’t know why I didn’t just say no sorry that’s okay. It was sort of like just riding along on the river of conversation and I didn’t want to be rude. Why does it seem impossible to say no sometimes? Anyway, I gave him my e-mail and he e-mailed me later that night. Can I read it to you? ‘Hey Galatea, really great to meet you tonight. Hope it’s not weird to say, but you have really nice skin. A lot of women don’t seem to take care of their skin but you seem to really take care of your skin. Like apple blossom petals! Here’s that link I mentioned. Talk to you soon. Have a good weekend!—P.’”
“P.U.”
&nb
sp; “Exactly. Here, you should just read the whole exchange.”
And Galatea handed me her phone. I stayed sitting behind her, holding her phone, the brush on the bed, my hand on her shoulder. I read.
From: Galatea
Date: Sat, May 10 at 11:51 PM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Polyphemus
Hi Polyphemus, thanks for the link. Take care.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Sun, May 12 at 12:24 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
I’m glad you liked the link, Galatea. I hope what I said about your skin didn’t make you feel weird. I was thinking more about it. Maybe apple blossoms wasn’t right. Maybe more like the inside of seashells. If I’m overstepping here, I apologize, but you’ve got a really great body, like really great. I can tell you think about what you eat. It takes discipline to be slim like you. I really admire that. To be honest, it’s been a long time since a woman has caught my attention the way you have. Maybe never as much as you have. Want to grab a drink sometime?—P.
From: Galatea
Date: Sun, May 12 at 8:27 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Polyphemus
Hi Polyphemus, thanks, this is flattering. But I’m involved with someone. Take care.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Sun, May 12 at 8:31 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Someone told me you were dating Acis but I wasn’t sure. Bummer. You’re beautiful and funny and you have such a pretty voice and again maybe it’s weird but you remind me of a lush garden, full of succulents. Hope to see you soon.—P.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Mon, May 13 at 2:12 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Hi Galatea, I know you’re dating someone, but I just want you to know you’re fucking hot. Wanna know what would make you hotter? If you weren’t dating Acis. Think about it.;)—P.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Mon, May 13 at 11:21 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Hi Galatea, sorry to bother you. I was thinking about it. And I stand by what I said, about your skin and stuff and how lovely you are. But also, just so you know, you not writing back makes you pretty rude, makes you a little bit of a bitch, to be honest about it. It seems like maybe you have the same amount of manners as an animal. I got a sense that you were kind of cold and prickly, and you’re definitely proving that true. It’s a really unattractive quality, actually. Honestly, it’s revolting. I think if you were to actually try to get to know me, you’d regret not being in touch, and you’d kick yourself for keeping me waiting.
“Jesus. What a dick. Did you want to tell him to fuck off?”
“I guess I was hoping if I ignored him he’d just stop. That it’d be better than offending him, like I didn’t want to give him more material to react to and be insane about. I wanted it to just go away.”
From: Polyphemus
Date: Wed, May 15 at 2:41 PM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Galatea, just to tell you a little bit more about myself since you don’t seem to have interest in asking yourself, and I think maybe the more you know the more you might realize what you’re missing. First of all, I own my own house and it’s not small. And if you like strawberries, my garden is full of them. And if you like grapes, I have purple and green. Do you like cherries? I have tons of cherry trees. I make good money. I’m not bragging, I’m just stating a fact. And just so you know, if I gave you a gift, it wouldn’t be some boring flowers or a pair of earrings for your perfectly pierced ears. I know this area inside-and-out and I’m constantly hiking, and I saw a pair of bear cubs the other day and I thought Galatea would love these. Just so you know.
And just to remind you what I look like, because I was just looking in the mirror and I was liking what I was seeing. Probably you remember how large I am, much larger than most men. In all the ways. Just saying. And women happen to actually love how long my hair is, that it comes to my shoulders. And women also happen to actually love the hair on the rest of my body. For some women, it is a major turn-on. Think about it: A tree is ugly without leaves. A sheep looks ridiculous without wool. Birds have feathers. People say a man with a lot of hair is manlier. My chest, back, neck, hands. And with the one eye I’ve got I actually see more than most people. Just so you know. I don’t wear contacts or glasses. I have perfect vision.
Also probably you already know this, but my dad’s a god, and not to get ahead of ourselves here, but it’s useful to have a god for a father-in-law.
To be honest, I cannot understand what you see in Acis. I’ve seen him and I’ve talked to people, and he’s a joke. Let him know that he does not want to cross paths with me. Honestly when I start thinking about him, and when I start thinking about him fucking you, it makes me crazy. What do you even like about him? Is someone with a smooth chest so sexy to you? Like a little boy? Is that what you like? Is he so good at fucking you? No chance he’s got a bigger D than me. No chance FYI. Does he love going down? Galatea, I’d go down all day any day. I don’t even care if you are on your period. Does Acis go down when you are on your period? What do you like about him? Honestly I think about him on top of you and it makes me fucking insane. I just pounded the desk here and a glass fell off and broke all over the floor. I’ve got to clean up the glass now.—P.
“He’s fucking crazy.”
“I know.”
From: Polyphemus
Date: Thur, May 16 at 4:04 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
You don’t find anything there to respond to? I find that surprising. It makes me think there’s something bigtime wrong with you.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Fri, May 17 at 3:58 PM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Nothing still? Are you a bitch.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Sun, May 19 at 11:21 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
How’s Acis, Galatea? Still a loser?
From: Polyphemus
Date: Mon, May 20 at 3:17 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Stupid fucking cunt.
“Jesus.”
“I know. Like terrifying. My hands went all cold when I saw it. I couldn’t get to sleep.”
From: Galatea
Date: Tue, May 21 at 10:11 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Polyphemus
Hi Polyphemus. Please stop e-mailing me. I’m not interested and your messages are frightening.
From: Polyphemus
Date: Tue, May 21 at 10:17 AM
Subject: Re: Hometown!
To: Galatea
Oh, Galatea. Sweet G. Thank you for writing. I don’t want to frighten you. I’m just trying to make you know what I know: we are meant for each other. And I’m happy we’re going to see each other soon.
“When I read that last one, I panicked. I got this sick, terrible feeling. That he was going to get me. That he was going to find me and get me. I knew. In my body. I knew it.”
Her back still to me, Galatea was all tensed. I grabbed the apple from the bed and reached around her, a one-armed behind-the-back embrace. “Here,” I said.
She took a bite.
“What happened then?�
�� I asked, and I kept stroking the brush through her hair.
“I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks. Nothing. Which in some ways was scarier. I started dreading opening my e-mail, thinking, Oh god, is he going to be in there this time? I had this terrible sense of dread. And I was with Acis one morning, and we were hanging out on his porch, sitting kind of tangled up together, drinking a coffee. I looked up, and down the block I saw this figure walking up the street. This massive, long-haired man. And I knew immediately.”
“Oh god,” I said. I kept brushing, trying to stay steady in my strokes.
“I said, ‘Acis, I think that’s him.’ And he sat up. And I said, ‘We need to get out of here.’ And then Polyphemus started running, and we went sprinting and tumbling off the porch, and I went straight for the water, and dove in, and Polyphemus has these super long legs and he was there in what seemed like seconds and I was screaming at Acis to run, run, and Polyphemus started after him, and he was yelling stuff like I’m going to tear your limbs off, I’m going to fuck your asshole with your own foot, I’m going to rip your dick off and grill it on a stick, you’re never going to fuck her again.”
“This is fucking terrifying.”
“And then he picked up this huge rock and threw it at him and it—it—”