And the Beast

[horatioalone]

The first thing I noticed were his eyes:
how human they were,
how out of place on a face
that was half-lion, half-wolf, all fairytale.
The second thing I noticed
was that his doublet sparkled, immaculate,
& his fur was matted with blood.

Had he, too, expected a creature
of different build?
Something in petticoats,
jewels glimmering at its throat?
Something sweet-voiced & smooth-cheeked
that, curtsying, lifted its skirts ever so slightly?
Surely not the mismatched, in-between thing
that answered his look with a bow,
the plumes of its hat whispering to the flagstones,
Gaze on me all you want,
you’ll never make me good.

Interlude after strange interlude
& many, oh, many a winter
passed in this manner,
the two of us growing no bolder:
he looking, I bowing.
The fur on his face
did not melt away at my touch;
his snout did not transmogrify
into a handsome Grecian nose
at a mere glance from me,
any more than he could narrow my hips
with a clothespin
or magic my menses away with a kiss.

In the rain by the leaves of the roses
we sit on a carved bench.
We do not mind the weather.
There is nobody to gawk at us.
We do not surprise each other –
how could we, beastly as we both are?