Victoria Williams: 0200

200 things I did and you still left

At your house for the first time in eight years,
You invited me and I said,
If you want to meet,
Let’s meet.

When I came here before,
I broke your mother’s tea-set,
Just by looking at it.
Your sister said,
‘She is dirty and unshaven,’
I said, ‘That was normal for Elizabethan women,
And the ancient woods are just out there.’

In the ancient woods,
We both feel that we come from a land of great hymn-makers,
‘Should we fuck?’ I say,
‘Or kiss, or shall I lick your ears,
Or pet the cat?’
‘No,’ you say. ‘We are constrained by the age we live in,’
Or some such excuse.

I’d wanted you to come with me while I got my ears pierced,
So you’d cry,
And I’d have birds on my earlobes.
But no matter.
What if I told you,
I may have been a crazy bitch,
But that wasn’t all.
That all of my diseases were manifestations of love,
So love and time were never going to be the cure.
It was an allergic reaction.

‘Most of the past isn’t worth repeating,’
You say. ‘Magic is performance art,
I’m a sorcerer,
I’ll show you my herb garden.’