International Corner
Nutska Joyson
Of Lavenders
The blushing leaves swayed to the melody,
Of the wind’s loving, imperceptible song,
To lyrics that held the whispered secrets of those here before me
On the day I went to the field.
The land ran lush in all its glory,
Adorned by their queen, the Sun, with her endless kisses,
It stretched its arms out towards her generous lips,
With its offerings of kaleidoscopic flora.
In a vibrant, near-endless sea of flurry,
Where wondrous plants called out for affection,
I lay side-by-side with the tranquil lavenders,
Caressing their petals, as one lover would another.
A song, now well-known, the wind hummed,
For the flowers that shook to its rhythm,
I felt its fingers comb my hair, to my ear it leaned closer,
And into it whispered its immortal chant.
In my mind’s eye formed your familiar silhouette,
And the day I hope my head will rest on yours,
A bouquet of divine purple in your lap,
And speckles of its hue in your hair.
I’ll reach my hand to pick them out,
But you’ll laugh and purr under your breath,
A sentence in which I’ll hear your sweet smile,
And see the shade of pink on your lovely cheeks.
A sigh may escape me, a flutter will ensue in my chest,
A heavenly heat shall flare in that once courageous palm,
And just as the Sun showers with blessings its devout servants,
I’ll finally feel your touch, your caress, your delicate adornment.
The blushing leaves swayed to the melody,
Of the wind’s loving, imperceptible song,
To lyrics that held the whispered secrets of those here before me,
As I lay in the field and gently revealed mine.
Nutska Joyson
Bloodletting
Everyone knows the town’s local physician- the one who introduced us to the miracle of bloodletting.
Though no one knows his name. And he treats his patients rather oddly.
Whenever the patient is suffering from an illness he always prescribes bloodletting. During the procedure, he leaves the room and has the hairdresser complete it. Then that hairdresser is never seen doing another procedure again.
I once asked one of the hairdressers about the physician’s name.
He responded with “Dr. Acula”.
I never saw him again.
And I still don’t know what the doctor does with the patient’s blood.
Nutska Joyson
Passage
There’s a rumor in Paris that only locals know.
If you walk alone at night past Passage D’Enfer* you’ll find a narrow alleyway.
Follow it to the end and you’ll find a merchant. He greets with a two-finger salute but says nothing.
He sells gold and pretty jewels with indescribable symbols.
Strangely, there’s never a price tag on any of them. And you always hear clawing and giggling from inside the walls.
Even if it feels like it, the walls aren’t closing in.
Please, purchase whatever the merchant offers.
Just don’t drink the wine.
It tastes too much like iron.
*Passage D’Enfer
A street name in Paris. Roughly translates to “Passage to Hell”
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