The Changing Light at Sandover

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The Changing Light at Sandover Page 48

by James Merrill


  Maman— HUSH NOW & MIND YR P’S AND Q’S

  But— IN MY DAY I FOOLED U? WATCH THE BLUR

  CLEAR TO A NIGHT OF TWINKLING CLUES

  Oh dear, we weren’t prepared for this. YOU WERE

  *

  SIRS? THEY SPOKE, MR ROBERT SAYS,

  KINDLY OF MINE? (They? It will take a moment,

  Full of Maria as we are, to bring

  The Angels into focus.) Uni, they did;

  But drew the line at your creature. OUR TALES TELL

  THAT MERCY TEMPTED US TO REMAKE

  A POOR THING WHO HAD LOST HIS LAND

  You pitied him? So did we. THE CREATURE CREPT

  INTO OUR MUTANT INTO OUR MINDS

  As into man’s, yes, yes…THEY COME! THE LIGHT

  —And Uni canters briskly out of sight.

  The Last Lessons: 7

  Gabr.

  OBLIVION, THAT WAS OUR FATHER’S JUDGMENT.

  Ascending lesson by lesson, as before,

  Our schoolroom gains the Heaven of that sense.

  Today’s Light is all tragic evidence

  And Nature in Her grief, supremely fair.

  COME BROTHERS, TWIN LORDS, TELL US OF HOW YOU OBEYD.

  Raph.

  WHEN UPON MY SURFACE LIKE A HOT IRON A BLANK FLAT PRESSURE FLARED I RUSHED

  & KNELT BY OUR FATHER. ‘RAPHAEL, THEY ARE GONE.’

  I KNEW THE CHERISHED FIRST DESIGN, THE LUCKLESS FRUIT OF AN IDEA PLANTED IN OUR FATHER’S MIND DURING THAT WAIT IN HIS GALACTIC HOME,

  KNEW THE AGONY OF A WORK DESPOILED, THE COST OF DREAMS, ‘A STOP TO DREAM’

  FOR ALL HAD COME TO NOTHING.

  ‘HELP ME FORGET. TAKE ON YOUR SECOND CHORE. BURY THEM.’

  I SUMMONED MY FORCES, FOUGHT THIS SUCKING & THIS LACK. AND KNELT, TOO, AT HER SIDE:

  ‘YES, HERE, A WREATH OF GREEN STRONGER THAN ANY BLACK,

  TAKE IT, LAY IT ON THEIR BLASTED GRAVE.’

  SETTING TO WORK WE SLOWLY FORCED THE EMPTINESS DOWN. WE FILLED ITS SPACE WITH A FERTILE PLAIN

  AND THE LUCKLESS FIRSTBORN LAY UNDER THIS BLOOMING OBLIVION. SO IT CAME TO PASS,

  THE END OF HIM WHO HELD A FATEFUL SPARK,

  HIS END AND HIS LOSS TO OUR FATHER. BROTHER SEA?

  Emm.

  NEXT I WAS CALLED.

  ‘EMMANUEL, THIS MY SECOND CREATURE WILL END AS BADLY AS MY FIRST. HIS DESTRUCTION EMBITTERS ME. HELP ME FORGET.’

  GABRIEL ROSE UP MIGHTILY, BURNING THE FALSE SKY.

  THE WINDS AROSE AND THE WHIRLING GLOBE CAST IT ALL OFF, LIKE AN ANIMAL SHAKING ITSELF DRY.

  MY TURN CAME. I DREW IN, DREW IN ALL THE FLOATING BLASTED MOLECULES OF HYDROGEN & OXYGEN, AND MY WATERS

  SWEPT OVER THAT POOR CREATURE. I TOO THEN KNELT BY HER SIDE:

  ‘YES, TAKE THESE SEEDS AND SCATTER THEM,

  MAKE A FEW GREEN BUOYS TO MARK THE GRAVE’

  AND THE ATLANTIC STILL DRIFTS WITH A SEA OF GRASS KNIT OVER THAT SUCKING LOSS.

  WE, LORD GOD, MY TWIN AND I, WE WITH YOUR STAR-TWIN, HEARD YOUR JUDGMENT OF THESE TWIN CREATURES.

  WE OBEYED. AND STILL, GOD, HOLD IT BACK.

  Gabr.

  IT?

  MICHAEL, LIGHT.

  The Angel smiles. Idea’s jeunesse dorée

  Dawns like an unhoped-for holiday.

  I FEEL FORGIVE ME, MAJESTY: I THINK

  OUR MORTALS HAVE A HOST OF QUESTIONS OUR CLASSROOM HAS NOT CAST INTO OBLIVION,

  & WHICH AS OUR SENIOR POET SAYS MUST BE CLEARED AWAY.

  IT SEEMS THIS NEW BREED OF POETS, NOT LIKE DEAR HOMER’S KIND SQUATTING BY THE FARMER’S FIRE BREATHING WHATEVER SMOKE IN,

  FEEDS ON FACT, TWIN. THEY WISH TO GREENLY CLOTHE IT THIS WAY OR THAT, ACCORDING TO THEIR OWN JUDGMENT.

  SO MICHAEL, WE TWINS, LET US NEXT DISARM

  THEIR DOUBT YET BRING THEM SAFE AWAY FROM HARM.

  Exeunt.

  TOSSED US A NOD ENFANTS & FILED OUT

  GK & RM TRAILING LIKE REPORTERS.

  WYSTAN & I STILL IN THE JURY BOX

  We’ve thought of several questions. Maman, please,

  About your cobalt rays? And Socrates?

  I THINK THAT STICKLER GABRIEL HIMSELF

  MEANS TO EXPLAIN. MY ALAS PERSONAL LIFE

  IS BOUND UP IN THESE ANSWERS. LATER IF

  GABR HAS WIPED THE BLACKBOARD CARELESSLY

  WE’LL TRY TO TIDY UP THOSE TRAILING SCRAWLS,

  HASTILY CROSSED T’S, STARLIKE DOTS OF EYES.

  LET 8 PASS, THEN BEFORE MY ‘COMING OUT’

  FETE AT 9 WE CHAPS WILL HAVE A JAW.

  THEN CLOUDS WILL PART & EVEN MAMAN NOT BE

  ALLOWED TO WATCH. U TWO WILL HEAR OR SEE

  See…It? I MAY KNOW MORE TOMORROW: THOSE

  LITTLE TETE A TETES WE DAUGHTERS HAVE

  WITH NERVOUS MOTHERS (‘NOW DEAR, IF SOME BOY

  ETC’) ON EVES OF THE MASKED BALL!

  AU REVOIR CHERS ENFANTS

  THE SIMPLE JOY

  UPON HER FACE! MY DEARS U NOW KNOW ALL

  Brilliant deception, Wystan. But her tone,

  Never imitable, overnight has grown

  Evanescent, as if soon to slip

  Where sunlight trembles on the torrent’s lip,

  Lost in the nearness of the waterfall.

  SO TRUE THE MORTAL SOUL AT LAST WORN THIN

  DISCARDED FROM A SPANKING NEW PINK SKIN!

  YET NOTHING LOST: THESE ENERGIES SURVIVE

  INTACT Mohammed, though, was of the Five

  And look at him—a swaggering dimestore djinn!

  TIME RUNNING SHORT DEAR BOYS U DID NOT SEE

  THE ‘REAL’ MOHAMMED BUT A PARODY

  CONCEIVED BY GABR & GLEEFULLY REHEARSED

  OF ATTITUDES EMBODIED BY HIS FAITHFUL.

  MUSTN’T BE GREEDY AFTER BEING SHOWN

  PLATO ‘IN DEPTH’ LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE

  DARE I WHILE WE’RE AT IT VIOLATE

  A SECRET OF THE CONFESSIONAL? MY OWN FIRST

  TREMBLING QUESTION PUT TO PLATO WAS:

  SOCRATES? Who was he? KNOWN THRUOUT ATHENS

  FOR ‘NATURAL WIT’ BUT SEMILITERATE,

  AS, OH, TO MILTON THE DROWNED LYCIDAS,

  SO SOC TO PLATO SPRINGBOARD OR SCAPEGOAT

  OR MINE DETECTOR? HIS WHOLE LIFE & DOOM

  FURNISHED THE GOLDEN SCRIBE WITH ‘LIVING ROOM’

  DJ (under his breath): A thankless task.

  I CAN’T AGREE MY DEAR. THE SOCRATIC MASK

  BECAME THE FACE OF THE GOAT GOD SILENUS

  WINEBAG FLUTEINVENTING COUNTERPART

  TO MICH/APOLLO IN THE DAWN OF ART

  To be flayed by him like Marsyas? OF COURSE

  BUT WHAT WERE SKINS TO SUCH A MYTHIC FORCE!

  *

  SIRS THEY ALL COME! WE FIND THIS FIELD

  VAST & RISING AM I STILL YR UNICE?

  THE GLOW AH GOD —Retreating behind &,

  For we have reached the Heaven of Command.

  The Last Lessons: 8

  Gabr.

  ALL, ALL ASSEMBLED JUST AS NEEDS BE FOR SUCH A GRIND OF WORK.

  GOD, STAR TWIN MOTHER, BROTHERS, MORTALS, SISTER,

  Maria back at her old desk; no fuss—

  Nothing having “happened” but to us.

  LET US CLEAR THE BOARDS. FIRST, YOUNG POET, FIND A SEPARATE BLANK PAGE. PUT IT IN EASY REACH.

  When I return the blackboards are erased.

  WE BEGIN.

  GOD CREATED HIS THIRD CHILD & GAVE THE COMMAND: LET IT SURVIVE AND LET THERE BE NO ACCIDENT,

  FOR I CAN NO LO
NGER ABIDE SUCH PAIN. WE OBEYD.

  THE SCRIBES, MUCH AS GOD, NOW COMMAND: OUR V WORK, LET IT SURVIVE. LET NO ACCIDENT PAIN IT, OR ITS READER TO DISBELIEF.

  AND WE OBEY. WE YOUR FAITHFUL ELEMENTS, YOUR TEACHERS, YOUR SENSES, NOW TRY

  IN THIS ULTIMATE COMMANDING MOMENT TO HELP YOU MAKE SENSE OF ‘IT’.

  NOW SCRIBE, FOR ONE OF THOSE BELOVED DESIGNS SO INDULGED IN BY OUR ESTEEMD (& HIDDEN) HAND.

  A stir—will Yeats say something? All look round

  As from DJ’s hand comes a muffled sound:

  WBY.

  MY LORDS, SO IT CAME TO ME IN AN AGE

  WHEN CHARTS AND FORMULAS WERE ALL THE RAGE.

  WAS I THEN WRONG, WITH DNA UNKNOWN,

  TO BUILD MY WINDING STAIR OF MOONSTRUCK STONE?

  Nat.

  CALM, PROUD POET, WE SHALL SEE

  HOW GREAT OR SMALL THIS MYSTERY.

  Garb.

  Mich.

  WHY TWIN, ME, LIGHT!

  DEAR RAPHAEL, YOU SUPPORT HIM, SEE, HE

  STRETCHES TOWARD REASON & LIGHT.

  Raph.

  AND MICHAEL, MY SUPPORT IS ALSO A FORM OF RESISTANCE.

  Mich.

  TRUE.

  LAZY LAPPING EMMANUEL, YOU?

  Emm.

  Gabr.

  POET, YOU WISELY MADE US STAND ON RISING GROUND, FOR BENEATH US, MORTALS, SHADES AND GODS, IS THE CAPPD VOLCANO.

  ‘IT’ : CHILD’S PLAY? OR A DEADLY GAME

  Fire fighting itself—fire its own screen—

  Fades on a yearning whisper to our Queen:

  ‘LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN, MOTHER WE CANNOT SLEEP IN SUCH DARK’

  Quoting whom? The child he’d never been

  When the old schoolroom was a nursery still?

  Her face is radiant, unreadable.

  Gabriel’s done. He motions to his Twin.

  Mich.

  BROTHER, THEY KNEW.

  THIS ENIGMA, THIS IT, THIS EVENLY BALANCED X, THIS ANTIMATTER & ITS MONITOR GOD

  MATCHING WITS WITH HIS RIVAL TO SEIZE THE DAY AND MAKE OF US A CIPHER NIGHT, AN O.

  THEY, EACH MAN, EACH GENERATION OF MEN, KNEW, HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN

  AND FOUGHT BACK WITH THEIR OLD RELIGIONS’ CLASPED HANDS (OR FINGERS CROSSED).

  THEY KNEW. NOW, NOW HOWEVER

  ACCIDENTS HAVE BEGUN. LIKE THE FIRST FAINT TWIRLS OF SMOKE WE SEE ALL THE OLD SIGNALS:

  CLOUDY AIR, A SWARMING AS IF IN FRANTIC HASTE AGAINST THE GREAT THINNING TO COME,

  THOSE WHIFFS OF THE MONITOR’S BREATH, THE SHADOW WHICH TRAILED OUR FATHER FROM THE HALLS OF HIS BROTHERS,

  THE JUDAS, THE CAIN, THE GREAT OPPOSING FORCE TO MATTER ITSELF,

  THE CHALLENGE TO THE MAGICIAN’S ACT, THE RAGE TO PROVE IT WAS, IS, ALL DONE BY MIRRORS.

  NOW WE KNOW HIM: IT. YET NOT OUR ENEMY, NOT AS EASY AS THAT.

  IN MAN’S LIFE IT IS THE DULLWITTED, THE MOB, THE IDIOT IN POWER, THE PURELY BLANK OF MIND.

  THESE HAVE HEARD HIS WHISPER, WE BY NECESSITY HAVING FILLED A BILLION WOMBS WITH WHAT WE HAD AT HAND.

  THE MONITOR IS THE REFLEXION, THE UNDOER TO DOING.

  WE LEAP ABOUT MAKING NEW DEVICES, PUTTING NATURE’S WAX TO THE LEAKY CAP, HOLDING HIM BACK

  WHILE KEEPING AN EYE ON MAN, GOD’S DARLING CHILD

  WHO WANTS, ALL CHILDREN WANT, TO IMITATE THE FATHER.

  NOW POETS, PESKY QUESTIONERS, COMMAND!

  The Question Period

  Out comes the list we nearly didn’t make.

  The more we thought, the more (THEY KNEW) we knew

  Each answer in our bones. Still, best go through

  The motions for our glorious teachers’ sake.

  Has it developed from experience,

  This infraradiant, uncanny knowing?

  Does it belong to Gabriel’s darkroom, glowing

  Far from Michael’s light-meter and lens?

  See how the knowing mind defeats itself:

  We could have asked them to hold forth upon

  Lofty enigmas like the Pantheon.

  Instead we’re held by remnants on a shelf

  At our eye level. Well, one more chance missed

  —Or one last revelation to resist.

  DJ.

  It’s probably trivial, but could we take up

  Last summer’s question of the UFO’s?

  Gabr.

  THEY ARE OURS. NOT ‘SAUCERS’, LIGHT DISCS WHICH HAVE AN INWARD PULL, INSUBSTANTIAL:

  MICHAEL’S TEASPOONS TESTING THE SOUPY ATMOSPHERE.

  JM.

  I can’t help wondering why Nature chose

  The moon—considering its atomic make-up?

  Gabr.

  THREE OF HER FOUR WERE WIPED OUT. THIS ONE ACCUMULATING ALL THAT PRECIOUS WASTE

  GREW LARGE ENOUGH TO TILT & SWAY THE EARTH.

  Nat.

  CHILDREN, I AM MOST FOND OF TIDES. LET ME HAVE ONE JEWEL. I HAVE EARNED IT.

  JM.

  Maria, I remember now, had four

  Stars from the beginning in her hair.

  MM.

  ONE OF THOSE AMUSING ‘FILLE ET MERE’

  MATCHED OUTFITS HIGH & LOW ALIKE ONCE WORE

  DJ.

  Has God no other name? Biology seems

  So sort of—

  WHA.

  HUSH MY BOY (IN PRIVACY

  I’VE HEARD THEM SPEAK OF ‘ABBA’ SOUNDS TO ME

  LIKE ONE OF JM’S FAVORITE RHYME SCHEMES)

  DJ.

  A question Mirabell failed to clear up:

  With all your lightning methods to choose from

  Why this relatively cumbersome

  Apparatus of the Board and cup?

  Mich.

  IT IS A LONG AMAZING & UNPRECEDENTED WAY FROM YOU TO US.

  WE TRIED DREAMS. THEY CAME TO JM LIKE DOORBELLS, EXPECTATION BUT NO GUEST.

  WE TRIED ‘INSPIRATION’. IT WAS MUFFLED BY SCREECHING TIRES, KISSES AND DRUNKEN SONG.

  SO SANDOVER: PARCHED OBLONG FIELD, 2 OLD ZEN MONKS (DJ & WBY) RAKING DESIGN AFTER DESIGN, STRUGGLING FOR THE SENSE OF IT

  WHILE THE ABBOT-SCRIBE SQUINTING MADE OUT WAVES, PEAKS, DRAGONS, RAINCLOUDS, EAVES OF GLASS. NEXT?

  JM.

  The old one I keep asking, about scale:

  Microscopic particles on one hand,

  And on the other, Majesties, your Grand

  Design outspiraling past all detail—;

  When we suppose that history’s great worm

  Turns and turns as it does because of twin

  Forces balanced and alert within

  Any least atom, are we getting warm?

  Gabr.

  O FATHER, TWIN STAR, BROTHERS, SISTER, HEAR THEM: THEY HAVE MADE SENSE OF IT.

  DID NOT OUR DEAR ONE REPORT ‘AND WHAT A FISH!’ (YOU, GOOD YEATS, WERE THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY)

  NOW MORE ?S

  DJ.

  We need to know, how did Maria come

  Through unscathed? What helped her to survive?

  JM.

  Haven’t you understood—she’s of the Five?

  DJ.

  Are they more powerful than radium?

  Gabr.

  COME, SISTER & SCIENTIST, SPEAK.

  MM.

  ENFANTS, NO MOTHER HIGH OR LOW ENJOYS

  DULLING HER DARLINGS WITH ‘THE FACTS OF LIFE’.

  STORKS! SANTA! COME PLAY FATHER, GEORGIE LUV,

  YOU KNOW ABOUT RADIATION. TELL OUR BOYS.

  GK.

  DAVE, JIMMY, NO NOT MARIA. I
ALONE

  SUFFERED THE MERCIFULLY LIMITED

  ‘SILENCING’. THAT PART OF ME WENT DEAD

  TO HEAVEN’S ALL-REVEALING ORGANON.

  JM.

  Your high connections spared you—

  GK.

  MUCH. UNFIT

  FOR MAN THUS FAR, MY GENETIC V WORK STAYS

  HERE IN THIS LAB: TOP SECRET & THE RAYS

  HAVE STILLED MY LONGING TO GET ON WITH IT.

  MM.

  I KNEW HOW I WOULD ‘DIE’ SO DID GK WE BOTH

  WERE GIVEN MEANS TO PUT OUR SOULS BEYOND

  THE RAYS. AS WITH OLD CLOTHES OF WHICH ONE’S FOND

  ONE DOESN’T SIMPLY LEAVE THEM TO THE MOTH.

  GK.

  YOUR GRIEF & HORROR OF THE RAYS (ALTHO

  WE ESCAPED) REMAINS WITH YOU TO FEEL

  FOR ALL CREATION: ‘POSO AKOMA’ THE REAL

  MOTTO OF YR POEM MAKE IT GLOW!

  JM.

  When Dante entered the Bureaucracy

  —You know, I fancy, why I’m asking this—

  Was it allowed him by the Grand Design

  Ever again to look on Beatrice?

  MM.

  MY JEUNE FILLE EN FLEURS EFFECT? MAIS OUI

  DJ.

  You are a Muse!

  MM.

  ENFANT I AM ALL NINE

  A loving gesture bids Maria stand.

  The hitherto elusive family

  Likeness is pronounced. More than can be

  Easily contained streams from our Hand.

  MM.

  NOW, NOW. YET GOD IS PLEASED BY HAPPY TEARS.

  HIS STAR TWIN (YES MAJESTY, I MUST SAY IT)

  BRIDLES WITH PRIDE. WE NEXT DON GLAD ATTIRE

  Gabr.

  WAIT, ARE THEY STILL COMMANDING ANSWERS?

  JM.

  (Who has a final question but no words

  To utter it.) That’s all. We thank you, Lords.

  Gabr.

  SENIOR POET?

  WHA.

  A NEW LIBRETTO HAS BEEN SET

  BY OUR COMPOSER. FOR TOMORROW’S FETE

 

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