excerpts | three: the lovers

I see myself at home now and I hate proof. I am angry for having given it away. I am sitting on my couch clasping a cup of tea. Every now and then my face screws up as I recall myself returning that disc. I want to tell myself the disc doesn’t matter but the Queen is busy right now.

Something to do with those others. It’s a bureaucracy in my head these days. The Queen is always busy, so they tell me. They feed me tea and sugar and tell me to wait in the library.

I find myself wishing that Ling was here, or even Lance with his hinting at things. I am wishing for Lance to be here and tell me why the cameras had lied because I know in my heart that he knows.

Dirty cheating world.

I place my teacup on the small table and stare at the brown stained liquid. The television is an empty box on the shelf, the screen black and vacant. I think of my grandmother’s secrets and wonder if I’ll ever understand them.

One and Three.

Three and One.

Lance had reminded me of Ling that day. There was defin-itely something about those two. He had even said something of hers only the day before, what was that? Ah yes. It’s only practice.

Hardly profound.

No, but it was more than that. Something in the way they spoke. There was a fire there. I sip my tea and reflect on Ling in her garden.

‘Make body like a mountain yes? Strong like earth. Thought like clouds. All around your head see? Cloud burst, make body soft for the rain, absorb yes? Absorb water like wood. Clear mind. Heaven come and fill the earth and make all things same. When all things same, Ruth know all things. Know all time.’

Crazy woman.

I sink back into the couch, feeling it squish slightly around me. I touch myself on the forehead and flex around the tops of my eyes, knocking on the chamber of the Queen. It has been years since I last did the exercises.

Thought is cloud.

Come outside.

The Queen seems confused somewhat, she has been kept busy by the court for so long, but I have her attention now. We hold hands and pick over the rubbish on the slopes of the dry mountain bed, tough nuggets of flesh that demand a good massage.

There are so many of them.

Hundreds.

How did it get like this?

So much neglect.

© derelict koan creative 2013