Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

1.

     The Magician’s neighbor, the noted Madame Pelletier, complains of odd behavior in her garden. All the time now, and she does not know what to make of it. It happens that she is having tea this afternoon at the Magiclan’s house. The Magician’s mistress does not hesitate to suggest that he look into it, he shows good sense in such matters. In due course it is decided that our entire party should have a walk through the madame’s garden. Naturally, Madame Pelletier is embarrassed. But here! she cries ... and here! ... and look all along there! Again she protests that she is completely baffled. The Magician leans on her shovel. He advances, a tentative stroll over the offending soil.

     But Madame! he at last confesses - it is but a poor mole, are you certain you would wish to break him of his habit? Moles? We can all see that Madame Pelletier is abundantly horrified. Must she ever look forward to rodents in her garden?

     The Magician extends his arms, he waves a fair hand ... but Madame, to remedy this situation all required is that you sprinkle a fair amount of table salt upon these tunnels.

     Madame Pelletier acknowledges that the idea has merit. We can all see her satisfaction now as she paces along with the Magician. It has been, in fact, a rewarding hour for all concerned.

     Mistress Beabontha is content, observe how she smiles. We can concede that much of the credit is hers. On the other hand, this should be made clear: Madame Pelletier is not so ignorant as you may think… she does not for a moment believe salt will deter the mole from its purpose. All the same, she radiates warmth, she is extremely pleased at the Magician’s suggestion. Heretofore she had regarded him as vain and aloof, hardly the sort you would want for a neighbor.

2.

     The Magician’s friends have a tendency to be brazen. We drink his wine past noon and do not wait for specific invitations. The Magician understands. His mistress, after all … now that the sun is full … romps about these rooms like a painted stallion. Could he deny her ‘what she wants? Doors are flung open; we find ourselves assembled in the Magician’s forward garden. But where is the Magician? Three times he has taken his wine run into the cellar; we have yet to convince ourselves of his sluggishness in returning. Are we to conclude that our time here spins towards one final hour? Mistress Beabontha is niggardly with her clues. She goes up on one leg under the sun. Goes up on another. And so the minutes spin. Now on that leg... now on the other. At such times she refracts sunlight ... our mobile prism. I should admit that in the past some among us have remained past a proper hour. How else could I tell you now of the Magician’s predatory night walks through his neighbor’s garden?

3.

     It is rumored that the Magician’s second wife intends to winter here.

     Naturally, the Magician’s mistress questions the wisdom and good taste of such an arrangement.

     Should one of us inform the Magician? Who shall meet her at the station?

4.

     Can you say that for certain? May I assume you have it on the best authority? I see. If you saw her yourself I must take the fact as given. All right, there is no necessity for you to exhibit such anger.
If his second wife has been living here all along, then obviously she does not intend to give us trouble. But why was I not told? Must I always be the last to know what is going on? It gets tiresome. Mistress Beabontha nods. She understands, even if you don’t.

5.

     Count Brisco, the Magician’s first wife’s new husband, last night was seen sulking in the tavern. They say he was seen the previous day muttering in the city gardens. He may, I think, be forgiven for ruminating over the origin and purpose of those sly glances and soft whispers his personage evokes.

     It is at the same time true that the Count is himself regarded as something of a man of mystery. This morning the Magician was speaking on that very subject.

6.

     The Magician’s professional rival, Ankura the Magnificent, played here at the theatre this night just past. All day the children have been lining up to shake hands with him. It was the Magician’s mistress who at breakfast advanced the notion that there is more to this man than meets the eye. She believes money is being exchanged. Even the most witless among us can see how the lines have since enlarged. Is that the Magician I see squeezing in up ahead?

7.

     No-one questions that the Magician works too hard. The question, it would seem, is whether this is ruining his health.

     The week is most ended, and Mistress Beabontha tells me she has not seen him once. Why, I wonder, is his barber looking so smug. Here comes his first wife, Hova. Let’s ask her what she thinks.

8.

     The Magician has today invited us all to lunch with him. I take it you have received yours? This same moment, so I am told, he scurries about the city to find a restaurant with facilities sufficient for our needs. His mistress has the more difficult choice: is there a proper beverage for the Mayor? What can she possibly serve a man who insists that wine be out of season twelve months In the year? She should not trouble herself on his account. He’d be doing us all a service if he did not appear.

     It’s called off? Why? I recall the same thing happened the previous year.

9.

     You have heard the news? Mistress Beabontha is with child. She has lately been balancing tea cups on her round stomach while entertaining friends who know nothing of her situation. The Magician finds the practice tolerable. But why, he asks me, will she not allow the doctor in? He does not like to see the good doctor slouching so gloomily, so miserably, up and down the hall.

10.

     The Magician holds an egg in his palm. He has found it in a tree-nest on Madame Pelletier’s side of their dividing wall. It is still warm, though the Magician can sight no mother bird anywhere in this fast-falling snow. As for Madame Pelletier, she is in Florence attending the season’s final ball.

11.

     “Dear me, dear me, dear me...”

     These days Mistress Beabontha is speaking these words all the time.

     “Dear me, dear me, dear me...”

     The Magician worries; so, in fact, do her friends.

     What is she saying? Why can’t she tell us what is on her mind? I liked her better last week when she danced each evening around the Magician’s hat. Yes, the situation is strange. Even so, the Magician ought not to send us packing in this cold.

12.

     Mistress Beabontha, now definitely with child, observing sunlight streaming through her south window, draws up the Magician’s best sofa to intersect with its path. She sits now on the shaded side, having heard of the ill effect sun may have on those who have no know ledge of its power. She moves now. Now she moves again. Now she inches sofa over floor.

     It is tiring, certainly, but she is determined to be utterly selfless so long as she remains in her present state. It must be said, also, that she hasn’t had a cigarette in weeks.

     The Magician, seated elsewhere in this room, crosses and re-crosses his legs ... that much he can do for her. He can even take off his top hat, drum fingers on it in his lap. Later on this evening it is his intention to steal downstairs, appraise the condition of this sofa fabric. There is, at this moment, no cause for concern. For tomorrow everyone is predicting rain. And in the meantime the sun has gone down.

13.

     Yes, General, your message has been received. The Magician has asked me to inform you that a fortnight ago he had his special trunks sent to your Eastern Front. The enemy, it seems, succeeded in breaking through an unprotected flank. I am also asked to remind you that the previous week he had his trunks sent to your command post in the North. Your troops, if we are to accept the news, one day later gave up their positions there.

     Oh, I see. This alters things. He is now to perform only for the officers of your central staff? His trunks are to be sent … where was it you said?

     Yes, Now I understand. You may expect his call within the hour. What? You will dispatch a car for him?
I see. In that event, Mistress Beabontha will likely accompany him.

14.

     May I sit here?

     Perhaps I can clarify the situation for you.

     Mistress Beabontha desired a green mint souffle ... that much is true. She would have no other. The Magician relented ... he would go and get it for her. A workman’s cart,’ burdened with stones, broke free of its mooring and charged at good speed down the street’s incline. Yes, there by the Mayor’s gate. That is why you saw the Magician running so fast. I can’t explain, even to my own satisfaction, by what method the cart rounded the corner. At any rate it took the same direction the Magician did. No, he is in no immediate danger … a dislocated shoulder, I believe the doctor said. Yes, I am getting to it. Mistress Beabontha, in the meantime, had changed her mind. Mint wasn’t a priority any longer. That explains why she was the first to reach the scene. Unfortunately, she continues to feel some guilt over the matter.

15.

     You were remarking on the peculiar tilt of the Magician’s head. I assure you this indicates nothing about his current state of mind. Last season the Magician was struck on the ear by a woman too zealous in her cheer. From time to time you will hear the Magician assert that the conditions of his employment have since improved. In my view, this remains to be seen. You no doubt have noted that he rarely responds to the direct exchange, whether verbal or otherwise. See? I clap my hands but he continues to read his mail. The truth Is he prefers to conduct his business in the dark or by telephone. He is less than comfortable with his new right eye.

16.

     Here he comes again. Is It his third time around the park this morning?

     Say nothing. Don’t awaken old angers so soon.

     But see! The cigarette falls from his fingers. Notice how clumsily he stoops. He is unaware of it but you can see how his muffler drags the stones.

     I ask you - how would you respond if you were in his shoes? If all your old loves called upon you in a single week!

     Mistress Beabontha is furious with him. But wait ... you will hear it from his own lips.

     “Runa? Is it Runa When did you get into town, my sweet?”

17.

     What a pleasant party Notice the Magician, waltzing among the high chairs with his silver tray.

     “Will you have music? Will you have cake? These small biscuits ... would you like them now?” Yes, it is a pleasure to find that the Magician is himself again. They even tell me Mistress Beabontha is engaged in conversation in the drawing room.

18.

     This evening the Magician is expansive. There is not so much to it after all, and yes, he has been through these affairs before. All the same, it has not been easy for him. That is why, I imagine, this tulip he intended for Madame Pelletier was instead presented to me.

     You can see how he eats everything the maid brings to him. Why, this saucer I have here is no more than his afterthought.

     Soon he shall ask us to go up to Mistress Beabontha’s room. We shall have to kiss her hand. As you know, the Mayor is overlygracious: she will want him to kiss her shoulders as well.

     Now? But we have not yet been fed!

     “Dear me, dear me, dear me ... how dreadful I must look to you!” See the Mayor? He is kissing her now. What is he whispering in her ear?

     We shall have to break this up. We can’t expect the Magician forever to remain in their dark nursery, hugging his child.

19.

     They sit in the sun, colorful as their yellow parasols.

     They drink tall lemonades.

     It may be, as you claim, that the child resembles him. But how Is it that you can continue to dwell on them? All morning long, haven’t I been holding your hand? If you are desirous of my company you might begin whispering encouragements soon.

     No? Come. I will take you over and introduce you to them.