So the mysterious appearance of Mistress Kaya and her alleged
ties to our poet’s past seemed particularly suspicious, as if part of some
elaborate plot I suspect is only in my mind.
I don’t trust it, or even some of the things I have read
into her poems over the last two years (in particular those poems she has since
removed- which hint and suggest but
refuse to say anything out right.)
I speculate that parts of some of these poems may be aimed
at me, but she is as clever and illusive as she claims me to be.
I admit, I have tried to remain unseen, whether when
checking in on her poetry or dealing with political people who had just too
close to her for my own good.
The last thing I need is to give her and her public safety
director friend more ammunition to use to prove I am stalking her,
And yet, there are times I react, and wish for her to come
out of her shell and reveal herself. While to some degree she has, but always
doing so in a way that allows her to cover her tracks and give her deniability.
While there is room
for other interpretations of her priority poem (which is why she left it up on
her blog), her poem on trickling up may have been just too blatant and why she
removed it, at least once from her site.
The two poems I know she removed seem to have come as a
result of her panicking, as if she believed she had revealed too much.
And I’m never certain when she aims a poem (or part of one)
at me. It is also difficult to know if I am on her radar at all (despite her
calling the cops at the congressman’s event).
Most of the time when I interpret her poetry, I am guessing
about the deeper meaning.
This Christmas, I posted photos of my desk covered with what
I called “presents” which included an angled shot of my open notebook into
which I had transcribed one of her poems.
Almost immediately afterwards, she posted a similarly angled
photo with the out-of-focus image of the edition of our paper she’d worked for –
only with my story on the front cover. More than a coincidence, I think, if not
quite meeting the criteria as a message.
Early on (during the worst moments of our conflict now
almost a year and a half ago), I had assumed our poet was being controlled by
dark forces and that she inserted items in her poetry that she wanted to say to
me, but could not do so openly (more than a bit of wishful thinking on my part,
no doubt.)
She certainly has fallen in with some questionable
characters, who have used her talents for their own terrible purposes.
The image of my story on the cover of her paper posted on
her Facebook page confuses me because I don’t know if it means good or ill, or
that she still clings to some thread of hope (to regain the man she loves) as
some of her resent poems suggest. Or is she as the congressman’s PR person
believe, simply spinning webs, setting traps I have avoided in the past. All
this made even more suspicious by this woman’s sudden appearance and her claims
of connections to our poet’s past.
I don’t believe her, but it has the makings of a trap.
Am I supposed to fall head over heals for this woman or let
her turn me into a sissy or a slave?
If the dark forces sent her with that aim, then they have
misread everything concerning me and the poet, thinking they can lure me into a
trap with another woman, when the only woman in this picture I care about is
the poet.
She will never bear anybody’s baby, no matter how many of us
try, gone beyond that biological need, not a necessity for her, though at
times, in the death of night, I ponder the possibility, how I might probe those
space, inject what is necessary where it is necessary to become true, leaving
behind a host of possible sons or daughters, empty shells on a lonely beach,
abandoned, fodder for the seagulls, dripping from her thigh like a near miss.
So I imagine her as mother when she is not the Madona, but
instead that other Mary, Christ forgave, even gave blessing to, and would it be
a sacrilege to believe he might have left his see with her as well, knowing
there could be only one virgin birth when we all know she is not a virgin.
I want to plant my seeds in her garden, even when they will
never grow, to fill up those empty spaces in her life, and she letting me do
it.
