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Chapter 1
Gentilesse

By Patrick Bernardy

 
                     Golden blood—precious gemstone,
                     excellence glinting—sparkles!
                     No best is better
                     than your worst—
                     Icarus-peasants who might
                     launch into pastiche origami of heredity’s
                     elegant sculptural masterpiece
                     sizzle within your magnanimous glare.
                     Sedate them with benevolence,
                     each green subject adoring. 
 


Chapter 2
Bellamoure

By Patrick Bernardy

 
                                                     A whitened web 
                                                  of lace and lattice 
                            enshrouds your face—that oval 
                       of sable skin is the graceful ideal 
                                              of a swirling nebula
               You are my beloved, called forth from 
                                                      an endless echo 
                       of boundless beauty—the tableau 
that inspires all my art and compels my ardor 
                                for your piercing, ebon gaze
 
 

Author Notes "It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain." ---Carson McCullers from The Ballad of the Sad Cafe,


Chapter 3
Quiescence

By Patrick Bernardy

 
 
               Quickening silence: 
               unfolding her calm, she lives carefully, 
               interested most in 
               even surfaces on which to lay her head. 
               She breathes slowly while the eye swirls, but 
               chastening chaos is never far away. 
               Envision her fear as ebbs and flows,
               neverending, like an eon's worth of ocean tides— 
               cycles of recurring chaos and calm that
               encase her inside a prison of parental cruelty. 

Author Notes It's not easy to write about the life of a young child enduring the horror of parental abuse. Children preyed upon by those who should cherish them most must surely enrage the soul of the universe.

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