Nightmare on East Avenue
Turning, snatching at images, catching-uncatching my breath,
Watching the damage of hatches, imagining, gurning,
It furrowed that I had been followed, through hollow and fallow,
By all of my morals and vices disguised as a shadow, a fellow
Whose eyes, as they shone in the blackness, desired my death.
At first the force of reason quenched the wrenching thirst of terror;
I was fierce enough to face him, he was far enough behind,
And though his eyes were beaming closer, still I seemed to know
The forest, for I grew and learnt my trade within these branches
And their shade, and so could cope with any horror they contained;
But as the stranger on my heel came into sight, and was revealed,
My zeal dissembled, strength surrendered, blind, disturbing fright congealed,
For he was greater than the sum of all my parts, his gait was faster
And he hated what I stood for with a venom that was blighting, while his arms
Concealed a weapon primed and sighted to annihilate my world.
So the dilemma that defined my life unfurled at once, and billowed,
As a sail that catches wind propels the vessel: my assailant, his committal
To my vertical internment, with the tools of my disposal on his person,
And the hope that kept me going ebbed and faded, as the glade
That I inhabited increasingly was bathed by the destruction in his gaze
And my existence seemed to shiver. If this mind of mine has any worth,
I valued, it must find the answer now, or else the safety of the blink
Will be outmuscled by the stare. Just think, I urged my brain, you useless organ,
Search your contents for the means of my defence, before this foe, this
Violent opponent, finds his moment. What’s your weapon? Where’s your purpose?
Then, quite happily, and quietly, it happened. Hope emerged again.
I turned to face my demon and confronted him. He faltered,
Halted in his tracks, his imminent attack insulted by my fortitude.
His jaw gaped and a noise escaped that sounded like a question,
So I answered with the truth, or what I thought the truth to be;
I told it all, from start to finish, the sum total of my learnings:
How to boil an egg or poach one, where to get the fastest coach from,
Why the Pope lives in the Vatican, the plays of Terence Rattigan,
The pleasures of an orgy, the destruction of the clergy
By the forces of the secular authorities, and why,
And how we chanced to be conceived, grow up and die, without a stick
To guide or carrot to incline us but the ones that people find
Inside the darkness at the edge of our perception, how except
In special circumstances no one takes the chances they are given,
Why we each have different prophets, why we bother, why we suffer.
Pause for breath. The air was silent. My assailant was considering
My offer. Then, quite terrified, he screamed a most incongruous
Expression, dropped his weapon, closed his eyes, cried out for mercy, and
Disintegrated suddenly, so suddenly the mud beneath
His feet completely dried as though great heat was shed by his demise.
So: I survived. And yet, the bliss of my relief was short and ugly,
Since the woods I thought I recognised were somewhere else entirely
And although my life was spared, the bitter strife that it conferred
Would be my master and my slave until the day my mind expired,
And I was ashed upon a pyre or tossed aside into a grave,
And every night until that day would dream the same, disarming game.
Turning, snatching at images, catching-uncatching my breath,
Watching the damage of hatches, imagining, gurning,
It furrowed that I had been followed, through hollow and fallow,
By all of my morals and vices disguised as a shadow, a fellow
Whose eyes, as they shone in the blackness, desired my death.
At first the force of reason quenched the wrenching thirst of terror;
I was fierce enough to face him, he was far enough behind,
And though his eyes were beaming closer, still I seemed to know
The forest, for I grew and learnt my trade within these branches
And their shade, and so could cope with any horror they contained;
But as the stranger on my heel came into sight, and was revealed,
My zeal dissembled, strength surrendered, blind, disturbing fright congealed,
For he was greater than the sum of all my parts, his gait was faster
And he hated what I stood for with a venom that was blighting, while his arms
Concealed a weapon primed and sighted to annihilate my world.
So the dilemma that defined my life unfurled at once, and billowed,
As a sail that catches wind propels the vessel: my assailant, his committal
To my vertical internment, with the tools of my disposal on his person,
And the hope that kept me going ebbed and faded, as the glade
That I inhabited increasingly was bathed by the destruction in his gaze
And my existence seemed to shiver. If this mind of mine has any worth,
I valued, it must find the answer now, or else the safety of the blink
Will be outmuscled by the stare. Just think, I urged my brain, you useless organ,
Search your contents for the means of my defence, before this foe, this
Violent opponent, finds his moment. What’s your weapon? Where’s your purpose?
Then, quite happily, and quietly, it happened. Hope emerged again.
I turned to face my demon and confronted him. He faltered,
Halted in his tracks, his imminent attack insulted by my fortitude.
His jaw gaped and a noise escaped that sounded like a question,
So I answered with the truth, or what I thought the truth to be;
I told it all, from start to finish, the sum total of my learnings:
How to boil an egg or poach one, where to get the fastest coach from,
Why the Pope lives in the Vatican, the plays of Terence Rattigan,
The pleasures of an orgy, the destruction of the clergy
By the forces of the secular authorities, and why,
And how we chanced to be conceived, grow up and die, without a stick
To guide or carrot to incline us but the ones that people find
Inside the darkness at the edge of our perception, how except
In special circumstances no one takes the chances they are given,
Why we each have different prophets, why we bother, why we suffer.
Pause for breath. The air was silent. My assailant was considering
My offer. Then, quite terrified, he screamed a most incongruous
Expression, dropped his weapon, closed his eyes, cried out for mercy, and
Disintegrated suddenly, so suddenly the mud beneath
His feet completely dried as though great heat was shed by his demise.
So: I survived. And yet, the bliss of my relief was short and ugly,
Since the woods I thought I recognised were somewhere else entirely
And although my life was spared, the bitter strife that it conferred
Would be my master and my slave until the day my mind expired,
And I was ashed upon a pyre or tossed aside into a grave,
And every night until that day would dream the same, disarming game.