The Singular Dream Of The Elephant Man

[after the film by David Lynch]

consummatum est

beauty could not quite forsake 
forsake him in his dream,
her house made of

bits of broken mirrors
where the moons streamed
behind clouds not unkindly and

the stream almost murmured my dear,
my dear (the narration's not too clear)
and he thought in his

dream if only Andromeda were
not caught in the branches,
I could rescue her;

I would be happy and silver. and
restless in sleep
he moved, distressing the pillow of Mars,

setting off the alarms: oh let my son,

his mothers prayed, along his spiky way
sleep, sleep far from the jeering
and the jar of ointment

broken, at his feet

mary angela douglas 15 april 2016