le mystère.

I.

the blood-tree grows silent
i question my tenderness
or the strange faces that stare back

swathed in formaldehyde-liquids
embryo of the calf, the bird,
my mind relishes their eyes
hypnotically le mystère as fluorescence
runs

i fidget first with memory,
second, as i grew in orange groves 
a self-inflicted lobotomy 
like vines and i stopped talking 
when all i felt was sadness

II.

I dreamt again last night
upon the meaning of this
eye contact; it was nothing,
had been perfumed, had been a split second
in the room’s façade
alone 

impatient, posturing brokenness
as in the bell jar stolen from my hands
when all there is left
is trust
i only have sensibilities in
sempiternal madness.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 08/26/2021 dVerse MTB prompt.

46 responses to “le mystère.”

  1. I think even my usual anguish isn’t enough to properly describe my feelings here. There’s a beautiful, almost Victorian horror to this, this twisting of grief and depression with science and a faint flair of nightmare-fantasy. All of course tempered by the narrative voice which is both fairly grounded while also quite apparently twisted in its own deliciously perverse way. Well done, Lucy, I am in a fit and rage towards the heavens once more – your skill a blade that draws both blood and inspiration.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautifully written Lucy, I sense a great loss, with eternal sadness and betrayed trust!

    hypnotically le mystère as fluorescence runs

    The mystery of our DNA runs on and on generation after generation!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Quite “le mystère” indeed! It feels a bit like the middle of a gothic horror story. I think those lab-creatures are going to be talking, but maybe only at night. In dreams. As usual, such mysterious, vivid images, Lucy! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So enigmatic, Lucy, a beautiful evocative read. The imagery made me think of Damien Hirst’s shark in formaldehyde (not to mention all the other creatures he pickled) and I enjoyed all the notions that spilled throughout the poem. The idea of questioning your own tenderness, as if where does this spring from and why? I think that at times – why does that person move me? It’s unfathomable sometimes.

    This moved me:
    “I stopped talking
    when all i felt was sadness.” Yesssss.

    And the idea of perfumed eye contact, what a lovely synesthesia. Bravo! So well-crafted ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ah, I am so happy you picked up on that, Sunra! I was thinking the same throughout this poem, how different people or a specific person in mind can impact the narrator. It truly is unfathomable if we introspect on it. Thank you so, so much. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

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