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Home: Poetry: Conrad Aiken: Nightmare
| NIGHTMARE |
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a poem by Conrad Aiken
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- 'Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . .
- Draw three cards, and lay them down,
- Rest your palms upon them, stare at the crystal,
- And think of time . . . My father was a clown,
- My mother was a gypsy out of Egypt;
- And she was gotten with child in a strange way;
- And I was born in a cold eclipse of the moon,
- With the future in my eyes as clear as day.'
- I sit before the gold-embroidered curtain
- And think her face is like a wrinkled desert.
- The crystal burns in lamplight beneath my eyes.
- A dragon slowly coils on the scaly curtain.
- Upon a scarlet cloth a white skull lies.
- 'Your hand is on the hand that holds three lilies.
- You will live long, love many times.
- I see a dark girl here who once betrayed you.
- I see a shadow of secret crimes.
- 'There was a man who came intent to kill you,
- And hid behind a door and waited for you;
- There was a woman who smiled at you and lied.
- There was a golden girl who loved you, begged you,
- Crawled after you, and died.
- 'There is a ghost of murder in your blood--
- Coming or past, I know not which.
- And here is danger--a woman with sea-green eyes,
- And white-skinned as a witch . . .'
- The words hiss into me, like raindrops falling
- On sleepy fire . . . She smiles a meaning smile.
- Suspicion eats my brain; I ask a question;
- Something is creeping at me, something vile;
- And suddenly on the wall behind her head
- I see a monstrous shadow strike and spread,
- The lamp puffs out, a great blow crashes down.
- I plunge through the curtain, run through dark to the street,
- And hear swift steps retreat . . .
- The shades are drawn, the door is locked behind me.
- Behind the door I hear a hammer sounding.
- I walk in a cloud of wonder; I am glad.
- I mingle among the crowds; my heart is pounding;
- You do not guess the adventure I have had! . . .
- Yet you, too, all have had your dark adventures,
- Your sudden adventures, or strange, or sweet . . .
- My peril goes out from me, is blown among you.
- We loiter, dreaming together, along the street.
| "Nightmare" is reprinted from The House of Dust: A Symphony. Conrad Aiken. Boston: The Four Seas Company, 1920. |
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