The Ophelia Cantos

 

I.

 

Lilies tangle in her hair: green stems

like water-snakes.

 

II.

 

A disembodied hand

floats on the surface. So much has been lost

already: toes, the lobe of her left ear.

But this remains, a damp, immaculate

sign, like a message saved from the dark current.

 

III.

 

She wandered through the courtyard in her tattered

dress distributing wild violets.

She called us whores – your son ma’am, not your husband’s

I think – and knaves – the taxes sir, your cellar

is stocked with sweet Moselle. We called this madness.

 

IV.

 

Indicia of her innocence: to be

a maiden floating dead among the flowers.

 

V.

 

She will become an elegant and mute

image: the sodden velvet coat, the sinking

coronet of poppies, virgin’s bower,

and eglantine. The replicable girl.

 

(A blob of Chinese white becomes a hand.

The artist puts his brush in turpentine,

the model pulls her stockings on.)

 

VI.

 

And yet,

surrounded by the water-lily stems,

her face appears an enigmatic mask:

a drowned Medusa in her snaking hair.

The lilies gape around her like pink mouths,

telling us nothing we can understand.

 

VII.

 

Her eyes stare upward: dead and not quite dead.