BY THE SEA
"I want to die."
"Just wait till the pills kick in. I'll make you a cup of coffee. I'll take you to the beach."
A wave of drowsy non-being. A chemical gunshot of mercy, inaudible, invisible. You ease into a gentle craddle with black feathers.
Forgetfulness and remembrance all neatly wrapped up as a shiny red Christmas gift.
The sea, the sea, the sea. Alexandria. The dreamer in you has forgotten that world, SPQR, another me.
I found death in a city by the glittering blue sea. And you found me.
So the black raven followed us underneath the Golden Gate Bridge in another century.
Death is in a bottle of my pills. Death grimaces through a glass of cold rice milk.
Death falls out of your phone, your jacket, your Screen Actors Guild card.
You wanted to sprinkle Hollywood fairy dust over a blood stained prison room. The black raven smirked.
You still like your weapons. A true Roman officer would be useless without Ruger and Smith & Wesson pistols. Death still dances amidst iron and steel.
The black raven ate your Browning rifles and laughed, satisfied with himself.
But blue has always been your favorite color. Neither Praetorian black nor Martial red, but the color of a clear sky and calm sea.
Or perhaps it was wing-footed Eos who -- so frivolously -- bestowed so many rosy kisses on the raven, her light
turned his murderous blackness into the dazzling deep blue.
Just for a fleeting moment. An echo.
And the blue-robed raven whispered to you: ''Give her a dragonfly pendant with a piece of turquoise for her birthday.''
''A blue jewel was all she ever had for courage in a straightjacket of St Catherine's rich red robes inside an executionary golden halo."
You took me to the sea.
Copyright © Diana Thoresen | Year Posted 2019