Merlin (From the Tower of Glass) II

by Aidan Andrew Dun

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Here at her
pleasure in
detention

For whom I built
the watercity
I wait:

Sheer-stopped
I am in
glittering walls

Casting only
endless shadows
of need.

Tonight she will
come to suck
at my arteries

When an iron sun
has made
me talk.

Secrets of
the materia
prima

Prophecies
of the Pancross
of Britain.

Codes of
the atom
not for children

Hierarchies
of metals:
bitter knowledge.

Shall I replicate
the fevered language
of the ants

Their businesslike
monosyllables
work-songs

While her red nails
are drumming
with excitement?

Or shall I be
the hammer-bird’s
great spike

Furiously drilling
through glass
walls, driving

O, plunging
skyward out of
the canal-face?

I have lost
inner height.
Idiot chatter

Scratch and squeak
of mundane tongues
have worn me out

Rains tunnelling grey
films downward
drown me

In melancholy
retrospect, round
walls smothering:

I have
no word
to speak.

Only I swear
by the fiery
poles of the sun

The glorious obstacle
of willpower shall
not stop me.

I will be born
to the Waterbearer
one day.






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