le serpent qui danse
adapted from Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire
I see your body like light,
my love, my blazing beauty
your shoulder shrugs an inch
and heaven shifts on the canvas of your skin
I can smell the salt of the day
in your abundant dark waves,
each tress like a surgeon’s silk thread
stitching the scent along a seam in my heart
I would sail to the dragon’s den
on a ship with your likeness at the prow,
only the horizon holds mysteries
so worthy of pursuit as you
the rustle of your drapery
the silence of your slippered feet
moonstone eyes that pierce, shards of ice
you walk the deck transparent as a ghost
the waves rock in a hypnotic daze,
and the sailors have time to whisper,
the words floating around corners
and seeping into the boards
and it is what you wanted, true,
your woman’s body hides a heart like a child
majestic and hissing in your cage,
with the twitch of youth just under your skin
a woman is bad luck on a boat
because she distracts from the sea,
the needle spray of her embrace
endless in its breadth and jealousy
she is warmed by volcanoes,
cooled by glacial caps and frozen river mouths
she knows our blood is salty as her own
what can she do but beckon?
and I feel the pull of her,
the drive to reclamation
it stings and sizzles in my blood
when I want to follow you to your cabin below.
Monica Deck is a writer, recurve archer, and MFA candidate. This project sits at the intersection of her two favorite things: fan fiction and poetry! Transformative use helped her survive the pandemic.
