78 Cave of the Black Dog Part III

Part III

And shelves of books – these too I remember.

But the book covers were torn, the pages

Filled with scrawl from another place.

The moon often glowed upon the shelves, as if to point

To the answers held there.

But the light burned, and I closed the shutters.

Knowledge, ever dangerous, and in any event,

Unattainable.

Where I lie today, I am aware of life,

Separate and strong, eyes closed

But watching me.

I am in his house now, I live

By his permission. Sometimes,

I forget how this came to pass –

How it is that I have come

From my house to this. And then,

The eyes open, ever slightly

And the cave turns crimson.

I know this place, it is the cave

Of the Black Dog. His breath

Spreads an icy mist, his eyes a cold flame.

He is watching me. Sometimes,

The silhouette of the four-footed

One appears briefly, his double-pawed

Legs padding across his den.

He knows my lament, better than I,

His cold mist, wet across my face

Pricks me into being, slices through the

Dim consciousness that binds me.

I remember a box, given to me as a child

And opened when I became a man.

A shattering light blinded me then,

But too late; my thoughts had been

Safely harbored in one place, now

Scattered, and the eerie dread

Fell upon me like broken timber,

What then, when left alone,

Could I do but count the burning stars,

And position them one by one

Meticulously across the sky.

I remember too, watching the shadows cross

My sleeping-chamber. Though I closed

My eyes, still I felt the movement,

The subtle shift as shades rippled

Across my resting place.

No one worried that the door was left wide open.

I saw it all, I see it still. In the pine grove

Beyond the threshold, her shrouded body cupped

For His grey fingers to wrap around her.

I cried out to her, as I cry out to her still,

Although she had nothing left to say.

Who has left open the door? I cried.

Who let  in the cool, light springtime air –

A terrible lie in the face of the wet earth

That will soon cover us all?

Couldn’t they see the ruby eyes in the marsh grass,

The probing paw, the fangs that gleamed in the moonlight?

I will not be able to shut that door again.