36Chapter 7: Tantalising finality Beautiful in its devastation
A lifeline of Red cloth
Stretching from
the bedpost
to Jocaste's willing neck
and she drops herself
(Just like that game of trust)
but doesn't reach the ground
(she didn't then either)
her toes a tantalising inch
from the reassuring stone
yet too far to save her
she is too far gone
He hears
but covers his ears
Denial
Refusal
won't understand
Later,
Regretful
creeps into the room
And cannot look up from the gently swinging ankles
But stumbles to the dressing table
Blinded by tears
(Though as yet, nothing more sinister)
And grasps for something
Anything
His fingers find a brooch
One of her favourites
But he won't think that
And he leaves the room
He cannot find solace in blades
His blood pleases him no longer
Even the sight of his paper-shredded wrists
Merely sickens his pure-pining soul
And he takes the pin
Gouging it into his eyes
Hoping for some kind of belated salvation
But finding only the Fates' last laugh
Bloodcurdling screams
Pulse through the castle
All is still
He has condemned himself
The memory of what he has done
Permanently engraved
On his frozen vision
Irremovable
Unforgettable
Inescapable
And the sound of the eerily creaking
Noose
And the blood-spattered shadow
Drip drip drip
As her ankles slowly turn blue
Is stirred into their moments of
Dark closeness
Flame-flickered
Ever-tainted
Love
Oedipus
Oedipus
Oedipus…
whisper the Fates, and giggle,
their teasing fingertips and lips caressing
their creation,
loving it to despair
their progeny,
their masterpiece,
beautiful in its devastation