By Martin Agee

—after C. J. Trotter

A threnody is playing as I lumber my way up the stone drive, big fan ears flapping in the wind. The ground shakes with each ponderous step, and I worry about the neighbors. I turn toward the front door, the bluestone cracking and crumbling under the weight of my massive legs. The entryway, no longer wide enough for my ever-expanding girth, splinters as I force my way in.

The house is quiet. I feel around in the dark with my proboscis and make my way up to the bedroom, fearful the staircase may give way at any moment. The bathroom door is closed but the light’s on and I hear voices. Maybe she’s conversing with the mirror—a reflection once stared at my gray wrinkles and said:  next year, you’ll be a cheetah.

Deep folds of skin scrape against the woodwork, leaving the stench of yeast at the entrance to the bedroom. I light a lavender candle on the nightstand and change into a flannel nightshirt before crawling under the bedsheets with Moby Dick. I’m almost up to page four hundred.

Soon the light’s off and I hear footsteps down the hall. Pulling the covers over my enormous skull, I wait for her arrival and brace for the screams.

She reaches the bed and slips under the sheets. Her silken skin presses against me and I feel a trembling. Her hand touches the nape of my neck, and the candle flickers as she whispers: you are everything. 

I exhale a deep breath and the lace curtain undulates.

Outside the window the shadows are long but the moon is bright, and for a moment I imagine reaching for the glowing orb with thumb and forefinger—strangers with which to pluck it like a marble from the sky. The silvery light reflects the eyes of the world as she searches the blueness of mine, and renewal is nearly complete.

* * *

Martin Agee’s career as a professional violinist has brought him to the major concert venues, recording studios, and theaters of New York City for over thirty-five years. During his years as a professional musician, he has remained active as a writer of poetry, fiction and critical essays. His works have appeared in Belle Ombre, Idle Ink and Jerry Jazz Musician, among many others.


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