The Sorcerer
C. Walker
Stalagmite
finger creeps from shrouded hand;
Ferocious,
wrinkled skin and rough like sand.
The
arm, it reaches out, with spots and cracks;
He
points – “be gone!”, he says, “or it attacks!”
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
He
huddles in the corner in his cloak;
I
did not know his frailty ‘till he spoke.
“The
wretched thing, I conjured it from air
And
now it thinks this cavern is his lair!”
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
“Good
sir, you are a weak and weary man,
Perhaps
I could assist you: here’s my plan.”
I
spoke with him for hours about escape
Until
my mouth was grinning, his agape.
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
At
last, he found the courage to be free;
In
quiet, he was shuffling on to me.
I
told him, “I will watch out for the beast,
Just
come – come quick! – before his eyes gaze east.”
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
Stalagmite
fingers clasped themselves in mine;
The
sorcerer – he thought me so benign!
But
as his eyes rise up to meet my face,
They
recognize a darkness in that space.
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
He
hollers to the wind; it takes his voice.
He
screams blood curdling screams; they make no noise.
My
face, infernal monstrous thing, agape,
Inhales
him, flesh and bone like wine and grape.
The
cavern walls go trembling in the night…
When
deed is done, my face becomes a smile,
A
crescent moon lined rich with crystal tile.
I
sink into the shadows on the ground
And
slip into the cavern; I, unfound.
The
cavern
walls go trembling in the night…
