figures (o’er the hills), soliloquy, stage directions
[click to enlarge]
figure [unenumerated]: boreal
Midway on life’s journey, the right road lost, I find myself in dark woods
pursued by armed men crying: Nymph! Goddess! Celestial Queen!
They say they are artists.
Their eyes are on me.
They do not presume that my solitary repose is neither for being seen nor to better see them.
(I include the confounding nor: boys, you forget how
pretty you are.)
I will not play hunter, bewitcher, or conquered prey in this interminable masquerade.
Leave me alone. Go away.
(foot fiercely stomped.)
(bows lustily drawn. )
(swift incurable flight. hooves.)
figure 7: boreal (otherwise)