A Travel Poem by Michael Koelliker

As I was wandering through the fields,
I came upon a woman who I felt I knew.
We walked through the bronze plains,
Talking of fools, and of kings, and things.

As we reached the small town, I followed
Her to her house. A small house from the
Outside. But as I accompanied her
Inside, the house grew in size.

We sat at the dining room table.
We silently spoke as we looked
Each other over. She had Silver
Locks, as if a mirror stranded in her hair.

She looked very pale, but was
Constantly in the Sun. A small paradox
It was. Her eyes red as the crimson
Flow of blood. The same colour as

Her dress. She looked like a flower.
She reminded me of a Rose.
I began to speak and asked
Her profession.

She told me she was an
Herbal Alchemist, and a writer
In her spare time. I asked to see
Her garden. We shared an obscene laugh.

So for some reason I felt as if I had eaten,
We then got up and walked out her
Door to her private green house.
The place was a picture of Eden.

Beautiful plants everywhere, all the
Most amazing I’ve ever seen.
From Roses to Sugarcane, from
Azaleas to Digitalis. She had it all.

As we walked through the columns
Of plants and herbs we reached
Her laboratory zoned area. Sealed
By another thick wall. This is where

It all happens. Inside these walls,
Some call it magic, some call it chemical
Poetry, some the science of Angels, others
The science of the Devil. I call it Truth.

She flipped through her book.
She came to the page number 333.
She stopped.
For this was the desired page.

The page detailed,
“Entwine 3 pieces of Heavenly Mercy,
3 pieces of Earthly Humility, and
3 pieces of Hellish Wrath.

Then breed in Pandora’s Box
With H2O and boiling heat. Wait
3 rotations of the quickest
Hand. And kiss with the

Colour of the mouth.”
Amazed by the complexity
Of the reaction I was
Dumbfounded, but she

With haste grabbed her
Ingredients and her Fire,
And followed as the text
Commanded, to the t.

The book itself was eons
Old. It looked as if Angels themselves
Had written it, but the words
Looked like the book was brand new.

When she kissed the chemicals
With the colour of her mouth,
She set the box, opened, onto
The table. A massive sound

Followed by a crash came
Through the room. After the
Explosion, a shining Light
Came into my eyes. Blinding.

As I recovered my vision,
I looked at the glowing
Woman before my eyes.
I spoke the title of the page.

Page number three-hundred thirty-three,
“Anya SunaKiri”.

(2/8/2008)