The Revision


The Revision

I opened the book
tucked between Suppression and Conclusion
It read like a novel
Even though it was a romance entitled How To

The pages contained pictures
Intricately drawn, some old, some new
The dichotomy of good and evil
Visible throughout its pages
It made me want to skip to the end

But I didn’t

Visible to the eye was a pop-up-perfect woman
Beyond the overflow of woods and swords and men
I wanted to touch her, speak with her… be her
But I couldn’t get in
Until I was furnished with a special pen,
a quill with red ink, old but never used
And without trying to sound cliché,
The ink smelled of roses

I noticed a change in the pages
The more I wrote
And I tried to invent the perfect word
A magic word that would give me power
And not acerbate the new life flowing through my
Paper skin

As I made room for my story, writing between the margins
I flipped to and fro from the story to the woman
I took great thought and consideration as I wrote
And somewhere between the pages of good and evil
I found myself
kneeling,
writing on a stone
The book still with me

I stood stepping
on moss and leaves, some old, some new
And gazed into a pond
An actual woman peered back through its waters
Glaring at me, angry and dark at the
trap I’d set with words
she became the underlying meaning
now buried in waters and myth

I stood tall
Taking my place as the pop-up-perfect woman
Beyond the overflow of woods and swords and men

©2008 Darcy Downing. All Rights Reserved.

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