be ruffled, folded in its everydayness. Dew on the roses. I shall lap it with my tongue, wear Turkish slippers curled up at the toes.
“Are my eyes Turkish? Do you think so?”
I spring up, stare within my mirror, move my lips and pout.
“Large to entice and deep their colouring. Would you have me flirt with you? Keep your wiles for another.”
“We shall paddle in the sea tomorrow. Cold at our feet the water and our toes will curl. Papa may take a likeness of us with his magic box. Mama will watch for pirates. Oh! What are you at?”
“Unbuttoning you. You have a certain fever of excitement that must needs be cooled. Strip to your stockings and wear beads between your breasts, dark to your skin. Put on the sari now and let it wind and wind and wind till you are sheathed in silk, your bottom moulded well, your belly flat. When lifted up, the drapes fold at your hips, cascading without movement, water in its flowing frozen. Now to your meditations sit-legs crossed-upon the centre of the bed.”
“You will draw the curtains, I know. It will be dark.”
“Nor dark nor light. Enough to see. See in your seeing see, and see beyond. You will not to Brighton else.”
“Boys run along the chain pier there. The sea…”
“Be quiet, my love, be quiet. Stare at the wall. Let your eyelids droop and yet be blinded not. All muddied thoughts will sink. Be calm, be calm.”
Is gone, is gone, and empty now the room save for myself.
It is quiet, it is quiet, it is quiet.
I will sink my I. I shall try.
The colours now are brighter on the wall. I must not think of colours. I shall wear my sari all the night, stockings neat and garters tight.
Omni mani padme hum…omni mani…
What shall we do today, Mama, what shall we do today?
Thoughts bubble on and burst…are gone…are gone.
Time lapses yet is infinite.
A flash of lightning and I am within! Within, without, there are no boundaries. The Old Man sitteth here in all his homeliness, and he and I are one and I am he.
The dewdrop slips into the shining sea.
