Casanova Clay

October 2, 2012

Original

This is Liz’s fourth piece to come out in Apex Magazine. She’s been published in a range of places prestigious and not so prestigious and if you google “Liz Argall” most of the hits will be her in all their embarrassing glory. Liz writes love letters, songs, and poems to inanimate objects and creates the comic Things Without Arms and Without Legs, a comic about creatures who are kind. She has a website, lizargall.com.

I

Casanova Clay is the loneliest Golem in the world.
Every day he takes a fresh baked heart from the kiln.
Every day the heat has shattered it.
Casanova kneads his hearts for hours, trying to push out every air bubble, every flaw.
But the results are always the same.
Casanova does not have tears, nor does he have a tongue.
He picks up the broken heart, still hot from the kiln, and grinds it into powder.
He adds water to make slip, nothing is wasted, and starts again.
Casanova Clay is the loneliest Golem in the world.
He could carve a heart out of foam or wood or stone, but he won’t.
He will not abandon his work.

II

Casanova’s kiln is the loneliest kiln in the world.
It burns forever, like the heart of a star, like the rumble of magma,
But it is always cold.
Every day fresh coal is shoved into its mouth,
Every day white ash is scraped from its tongue.
It holds each heart for hours.
Feels each crack, each shattering betrayal.
The kiln would speak, but its mouth is full, and it cannot move.
Casanova’s kiln is the loneliest kiln in the world.
It could crack or break, scatter its burning blood to the open air, but it won’t.
It will not abandon its hearth.

III

Casanova’s Clay is the loneliest mud in the world
Every day he is kneaded, slip mingling with fresh loam.
Every day he fails, cracking, dying, ground to dust, and rebirthed by water.
He is sieved dirt, like flesh, like desire, like dreams.
He is mass, folding under soft-fingered stone. He becomes a vessel of uneven walls
Valved and chambered, holding what fingers cannot say.
He knows only the touch of hands, of water, of fire.
His skin weeps when he sets.
Casanova’s Clay is the loneliest mud in the world.
He could refuse to break, become a thing, unchanging.
But it won’t, he will not abandon those hands.

© Liz Argall

You May Also Like...

How to Speak to Pluto

How to Speak to Pluto

Address him as Sir or Pluto,never by minor-planet designation. Avoid the terms planet or dwarf;he is more than his...

0 Comments

Submit a Comment