Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The Oaten Bride (4)


The dagger planted in the Earth
By Oaten Lord at his birth
Points a shadow with its tongue
To show the Bride the wedding’s done.

The Bride is lain on marriage bed
Where she will shed her maiden head;
Her blood will paint the jagged stone
To sprout the earth with Spring reborn.

The liquid spells of the earth
Are chanted in the dark with mirth;
Naked round the jagged stone
In the moonlight on the loam;
The dancers, silver, sparkling, wet
Turn as shadows pirouette;
Leaping, stamping, joy-inspired
They circle round the burning fires;
And though the night is cold with mist
They spin with heat and leap and twist;
Glistening wet with perspiration,
Obsessed by songs in celebration;
For by rite of sacrifice
The village pays the Oat God’s price

The singing mounts in celebration
The Maiden shows no hesitation
Honored, feted, filled with pride
Calmly lain as virgin bride;
A nymph amid the blowing mist
Which lifts and shakes her billowed shift.
The liquid spells of the earth
Are chanted in the dark with mirth,
Naked round ….

Submitted: Saturday, September 21, 2013
Edited: Saturday, September 21, 2013
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