A Coastal Myth
The clarinet waves touched the moon.
He walked like a rooster in the moonlight,
bewitched by the music and the light. The
caparisoned elephants swayed their heads
to the drumbeats. A dozen half-naked virgins
danced around a bronze devil. “Human smell!”
Everything vanished in the blackout. That
escaped fisherman appeased the dark deity…
With a wavering voice and goose-bumps,
my wizened neighbor recounts thus the
myth behind the coastal festival. I enjoy
the false beauty. There is no analyzer in
his thinking system. Superstition is highly
inflammable in his illiterate inland. Such
beliefs flourish here in the thick Fantasy
Forest, where the reason rays never fall.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
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