The Impresario (part nine)
The Impresario
Part Nine
To a sheltering place
Like a sea bird flown
High where rays of sun make gentle
Winter’s violent froth and foam
He sees a lonely man below
Whose feet set on a cliff’s edge stumble
The fit passes, in commotion of known voices
Pierre can’t stop them crowding past the tent fly
One kicks at Tortu’s basket and a melée
Erupts as trufflers after coins go rooting
The Dauphin, helpless, shirtless, hugged by Regalus
She shames the impresario, her thoughtless heart
Wherein dwell only love and courage
Now he leaps
Atop the wagon’s bed
And seizing Poupée’s silver ring
Strikes a chiming note again and again
With his dagger’s blade
He had been warned
The words made diffident and softly pleading
“I know you for a gentleman, monsieur
I ask you nothing, what you do with her
This thing within the town is little known
I pray that it remain so.”
But…it is his living being savaged
It is the Bishop’s fair, he will be banished
A thing so wrong and yet a thing so small
Malign a soul already damned to Hell?
He knows the lid has not been nailed
And yet it does not yield
His blade snaps, springing free
Wrought with the jagged shape of a letter Z
The wine butt now half-breached and lid atilt
A vapor seems to rise
Such as from which might Oracle prophesy
Impresario
Part Ten
(2017, Stephanie Foster)