TESSA RUMSEY is the author of Assembling the Shepherd, which
won the Contemporary
Poetry Series Competition and was published by The University of Georgia Press. She lives in San Francisco. Everlasting Gobstopper
To swallow the thing you have become: the sun, or a half-sunken
sculpture. Of Apollo’s chariot rising from a pond in crumbling Versailles, the
dry. Eye of its drowning horse transmitting see me, see me
—
As if the stampede. To live depended on the existence of a witness, the empathetic
presence. Of a candysucking audience: If a stone beast falls in the water, and
no one. Watches her shatter — I
pulled as hard as I could, my back broke down. By the weight of a dying master, by the incommunicable sadness of
wings. Never tested till the moment of disaster —
Apollo shouting faster!
faster!
Rose, like you.
Blood on the plot.
This devotion: a curse: nothing. Seems worth saving. In a substance you
once Begged to consume you I was born I was raised Of my true self I was built this way To be the beast Who carries her master On her back like a
prayer A faith to make light Shine from previously Dark spaces in case of Emergency please beat Me please whip me Senseless so that I
may Transcend my bestial Limitations and
surface From this crisis Blessed and
subservient Pointed toward The Palace and loving Every minute of it
As A Mythological
Love Dream, and again the next morning as Propaganda. The shocking story stars
a beast built to drive our heroic Sun God To the heavens in a
glamorous gilded chariot to conjure dawn And thus — enlightenment. I appear to the public: therefore I exist A spectacle to titillate
the aristocracy between visits to the boudoir And teatime, wired to
shine not for the gods but for their chic And powdered patrons — I
adore them for the way they pump Enough water for the
entire population of Paris into the pond I am currently drowning
in. May they be amazed, may they be Overwhelmed by
waterworks, by my crisis of faith, by the desire To save me, and thus
cause the day: now frozen: to break open
obsession From the earth the sun
itself is beautiful when the sky crawls across it there is nothing else obsession From the sun the sky
itself is beautiful when the earth crawls across it there is nothing else obsession obsession obsession
Was grounded by the rush and the how to
of wings never
seen
but strapped to my back like a master, a camera without whose gaze
the looked-at would cease to exist —
you see, I was built to do this.
A beast carved of stone to carry you.
Whip
dancing down, sun stuck in its watery rut.
My faith: a weight
I chose to disclaim, so that I might be light enough
to fly again —
I asked, and I heard nothing.
I believed that I was dying.
Yet all along we were rising out of the water,
not falling into it, and when I finally saw
myself
from a distance,
through the sugarsoaked eyes of a candysucking
audience,
Apollo was soaring —
and
it was the existence of a witness that
carried him.
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