SOLILOQUY FOR LILITH (after Stapleton)- Robert Beveridge

          I (The Forgotten Temple)

[currently lost]

          II (Trains in Tunnels)

I wash the feet

of those who come after me.

my hands on your waist 

shrivel, dry and satisfied,

feel the warm softness of flesh

through silk and sackcloth

bless the silent bird,

the midwife

for she who does not bear.

lips on flesh

a silent ear of corn

it is only in that way

and never can I touch you

but Lilith, I will worship you.

          III (Foghorn)

violet notes with silver tinge

play out across the pond.

the loam, the moss

make us a comfortable bed.

I whisper you, again,

beside the water:

lioness, child,

watcher of the skies

the water ripples

in the rain.

shame and boldness,

the curve of one breast

tan and full, touched

with whispers and chants,

crossed with oil and sage.

Lilith, I will worship you.

          IV (The Magic Flute)

The image of your body

floats, as if in waves,

far above me

your touch has burned

your secret handshake

on my arm

for all to see.

I treasure it,

keep it like a scar

earned in battle.

Your will subsumes me,

the black sun of your eyes

and radiance of your hair

touch my blood with fervor.

Do not hate my obedience

and do not love my self control,

bring me to the fountain of godhead

and let me drink long draughts of you

for Lilith, I worship you.

          V (Silent)

the picture shows

disciples, who whirl

in odd silence.

I can see you

in the frozen motion,

a glimpse of silver-lined eye

in the flashing sword

of a dervish,

hair in the black pool,

roundness of cheek

in two bodies joined

at the center.

another desire

might not have been so great

without the words

<<I am in love>>, 

but I am the first and last,

the honored and the scorned,

the whore and the holy one,

I wrapped your words 

around my body,

a girdle of gauze 

and the mountain

of your lips,

and watched you ascend,

leaving only the fountain of godhead,

the bird who is midwife,

the lion by the pool

forever awaiting your touch:

like them, Lilith, I worship you.

          VI (Industrial Bell Tree)

I wander through this maze,

this hanging garden of tone and lustre,

know your voice

waits at the end,

your touch on my arm,

your lips on my breast:

you who know me,

be ignorant of me,

and those who have 

not known me,

let them know me.

I call to you,

the new flesh

and the familiar flesh:

I part the curtain of bells

to see you, naked in the mirror,

your disciples sent away

and the animals asleep,

breast crossed with oil

and eyes flushed with silver.

I push against the glass,

a light touch, test the give

the solidity at once reassures and defeats

your hand as if smoke emerges

and passes through me,

your nudity into me and over me

and Lilith, we shall pray together