The Wing and the Wheel [22-27]
22*
He looked for her, but she was gone––
as he finished his flask, he heard her rustle
up above. She might have headed for
the peak––not wanting to stay in the pool
she freed him from, flying up the canopy
and casting him as the follower of her
shadow. He had an easier time catching up
to her, than with his breath! She asked if he
was tired, and all she got was stewslaa:
so tired, each word sounded like acronym.
She did not disclose her crib was up ahead,
for he was fast enough already. He passed
the last trees in the jungle, before he
surpassed the tallest of them, too. No more
had he the strength to bring them down. She leaped
to him, without even descent––so level
were the treetops to the top of the volcano.
He never knew that grass grew this high up,
nor this tall as well, higher than fences
could pen. Desde fell upon the meadow,
but bent her knees to keep her soles planted.
Then, she slid her feet back till her toes
were on the verge of lifting. Then, she asked
Mitka. She asked if he could dress her back––
and how could he deny an armless girl?
The spring had cleaned his hands so well
that they no longer stank. Wrapping the silk
around her wings felt like encasing a pillow.
As if she could be carved by tightening, so
Mitka buckled the belts, sometimes on
the first hole, others on the fifth; and when
the bottle fit the dove, he capped it off
with high-heels, seating soles. She had been
fully robed––no, robed more than she’d ever
been. Was there now no peek to rob? His eyes
were the ones that’d been most buttoned up;
as he finished his flask, he heard her rustle
up above. She might have headed for
the peak––not wanting to stay in the pool
she freed him from, flying up the canopy
and casting him as the follower of her
shadow. He had an easier time catching up
to her, than with his breath! She asked if he
was tired, and all she got was stewslaa:
so tired, each word sounded like acronym.
She did not disclose her crib was up ahead,
for he was fast enough already. He passed
the last trees in the jungle, before he
surpassed the tallest of them, too. No more
had he the strength to bring them down. She leaped
to him, without even descent––so level
were the treetops to the top of the volcano.
He never knew that grass grew this high up,
nor this tall as well, higher than fences
could pen. Desde fell upon the meadow,
but bent her knees to keep her soles planted.
Then, she slid her feet back till her toes
were on the verge of lifting. Then, she asked
Mitka. She asked if he could dress her back––
and how could he deny an armless girl?
The spring had cleaned his hands so well
that they no longer stank. Wrapping the silk
around her wings felt like encasing a pillow.
As if she could be carved by tightening, so
Mitka buckled the belts, sometimes on
the first hole, others on the fifth; and when
the bottle fit the dove, he capped it off
with high-heels, seating soles. She had been
fully robed––no, robed more than she’d ever
been. Was there now no peek to rob? His eyes
were the ones that’d been most buttoned up;
23*
her blush, the green of grass she dived into.
He sought her in the soil, and felt only
her two talons, tugging him down as they
both heard a pop afar. What? He cocked
an ear, then heard more of them. Gunshots?
He couldn’t put his finger on where they came
––he looked back up, only to be hooked back
below. What’s up with her? She gave him a look
less frantic than telling him that he should be.
He lent her his finger, which she put to
her lips, and understood she needed it
to tell him to keep quiet. [M]: Is someone
hunting? Hey, watch it––[D]: God, help me
fold your wheelchair! How good’s your aim?
They’ve made the first move––[M]: Who––
[D]: The coup, the coup! [M]: A coup? [D]: Don’t
you watch the news? Don’t you hear them
footsteps?! [M]: I don’t hear anyone. [D]: Quick!
Something’s about to drop, hurry Mitka
shield me![M]: I don’t see––[???]: Quack! #
She inched above the grass to guess
whose footsteps inched towards them, when
from out of the sky and on her head
fell a fowl. They both heard hooting from
the distance, saw two girls holding guns,
highfiving the other with their free hand––
Then freezing up as they saw Desde rise,
holding their quarry with her foot’s talons.
[D]: You two––really? Isn’t it too late for
you two to be hunting––[Girl 1]: And we’re
surprised that you decided to come back!
[Girl 2]: Won’t you give us a hint, next time?
We were almost afraid we’s shot you. Who’s
this? [D]: This is Mitka. Mitka, these are
my maids. Is family still out, preparing for
the rally? [GirlMaid 1]: No one knows
when they’ll be back tomorrow. We’ve
been cooking up a stew for their return,
but you’re free to take their future leftovers.
[D]: Only if I get a quarter of this bird! #
He sought her in the soil, and felt only
her two talons, tugging him down as they
both heard a pop afar. What? He cocked
an ear, then heard more of them. Gunshots?
He couldn’t put his finger on where they came
––he looked back up, only to be hooked back
below. What’s up with her? She gave him a look
less frantic than telling him that he should be.
He lent her his finger, which she put to
her lips, and understood she needed it
to tell him to keep quiet. [M]: Is someone
hunting? Hey, watch it––[D]: God, help me
fold your wheelchair! How good’s your aim?
They’ve made the first move––[M]: Who––
[D]: The coup, the coup! [M]: A coup? [D]: Don’t
you watch the news? Don’t you hear them
footsteps?! [M]: I don’t hear anyone. [D]: Quick!
Something’s about to drop, hurry Mitka
shield me![M]: I don’t see––[???]: Quack! #
She inched above the grass to guess
whose footsteps inched towards them, when
from out of the sky and on her head
fell a fowl. They both heard hooting from
the distance, saw two girls holding guns,
highfiving the other with their free hand––
Then freezing up as they saw Desde rise,
holding their quarry with her foot’s talons.
[D]: You two––really? Isn’t it too late for
you two to be hunting––[Girl 1]: And we’re
surprised that you decided to come back!
[Girl 2]: Won’t you give us a hint, next time?
We were almost afraid we’s shot you. Who’s
this? [D]: This is Mitka. Mitka, these are
my maids. Is family still out, preparing for
the rally? [
when they’ll be back tomorrow. We’ve
been cooking up a stew for their return,
but you’re free to take their future leftovers.
[D]: Only if I get a quarter of this bird! #
24*
In the manor, there were gadgets for those
armless, as well as those with arms to give
the harpies better help. One of the maids
asked what she’d eaten last; when Desde
gave her the check for lunch that Mitka shared
the maid scoffed and chucked it to the stove.
Desde would stay the night and leave before
her father gets back. Mitka would sleep in
the neighboring house, the one reserved
for ambassadors––and, of course, the Mayor.
The maid accompanied him; they circled
the premises, because it wasn’t every year
that Mitka got to be wheeled around the top
of Abietta. The landscape mixed with map
this high; he could see his borough,
but not his house from here––as it turns out,
Mitka and the maid lived quite close below.
As they strolled around, he found ball-courts
in the grass. [Maid]: I’d often play my sister
on this court, during each outing that
the harpies took without us. Yet
since Desde left, we’ve been too tired to!
[Mitka]: the court reminds me of the games
I’d have to stand and referee for other kids,
watching their scuffle as they kicked
both knees and ball. [Ma]: You know, I wouldn’t
feel safe walking out this late without
another person. Not that I’m scared of
the dark––only of the night. Between here
and the city, within the jungle––there
are lights from windows that, when the morning
comes, trace to no house. Are you sure
you want to be dropped off here? It’s still
a little far from where you’ll stay––[Mi]: Drop me
farther, if you’re scared! Here’s good enough.
This mansion’s high enough to deter anyone. #
armless, as well as those with arms to give
the harpies better help. One of the maids
asked what she’d eaten last; when Desde
gave her the check for lunch that Mitka shared
the maid scoffed and chucked it to the stove.
Desde would stay the night and leave before
her father gets back. Mitka would sleep in
the neighboring house, the one reserved
for ambassadors––and, of course, the Mayor.
The maid accompanied him; they circled
the premises, because it wasn’t every year
that Mitka got to be wheeled around the top
of Abietta. The landscape mixed with map
this high; he could see his borough,
but not his house from here––as it turns out,
Mitka and the maid lived quite close below.
As they strolled around, he found ball-courts
in the grass. [Maid]: I’d often play my sister
on this court, during each outing that
the harpies took without us. Yet
since Desde left, we’ve been too tired to!
[Mitka]: the court reminds me of the games
I’d have to stand and referee for other kids,
watching their scuffle as they kicked
both knees and ball. [Ma]: You know, I wouldn’t
feel safe walking out this late without
another person. Not that I’m scared of
the dark––only of the night. Between here
and the city, within the jungle––there
are lights from windows that, when the morning
comes, trace to no house. Are you sure
you want to be dropped off here? It’s still
a little far from where you’ll stay––[Mi]: Drop me
farther, if you’re scared! Here’s good enough.
This mansion’s high enough to deter anyone. #
25*
Him most of all, once he came inside.
Like a wheelbarrow, the maid carried him
to the porch––He thanked her for that,
and she thanked him in her own way
for bringing Desde back. Then, she left. How
long ago had it been since someone helped
him up a stair? Tilting him up, then down
as if a baby rocked. All other stairs
On this island were accompanied by
a ramp––so had ordained the Mayor. Was
His house its only loophole? Mitka
looked back, but the maid was too far gone
into the night. The porch she’d helped him up
now cut off his retreat, and so he went
inside. The mansion was clearly built
for someone as able as the Mayor; Mitka
Felt helpless in its grandeur, each light-switch
like a sword in the stone, waiting for
a noble someone. He had to thrash to feel
how clean the maids had cleaned it, prior his
arrival. There was an upper floor, as
he’d feared, and between them climbed
a single spiral staircase. In this eden, how
could Mitka not feel odd, slithering up
and choking the pillar that birthed each step
caring his gut? The top floor was laden
with carpet, thick and clean enough to be
the towel that he took after his bath.
On this dessert of a bed, he began to think
back on the hot spring, grassy field, and of
her body. Her looks had cooled him––
snatched out like he was now, with no nook
for wind to hide in but her navel, carved
like a dune, as if excavated to provide
the flesh for nipples. Her legs were spread, if
only to make her feet more stuck together.
And her great double crossing knees!
His head had been over her heels––yet
it did nothing to him. Far from suggestive,
that afternoon gave Mitka dreams so chaste
that they disgusted him. Her order that
he clothe her up perhaps had been a test;
Yet he breathed no heavier, tasted nothing
but his tongue. Tempt him? Not with a waist
like his. He was so uncreative that he
couldn’t even insert himself into someone
who could enter her––that walking was
the farthest of his fantasies. Where
levels on rulers had their bubbles burst
from the low pressure, and pens spoke
with gargling ink, Mitka’s blood slept within,
unable to boil––and though he’d reached
the peak, he had not even come. Today
He’d pushed himself––this was a first,
bedding so high an altitude. Baede, his
sister, told him once that he was not
a burden for his weight, but for making
her take all the shortcuts. Since then,
he’d always opted for the detour––
hence, here. His hiccups and hurdles
had lifted him up this peak; his breach
of comfort zones had led him to his bed;
but he wasn’t expecting something to wake
him from these heights––and something
for which he’d have to rid his hiccups,
in order to pick up! What else woke him, but
a call––and who else called him but
Baede, calling with such big news that
made him so giddy that he was unsure
whether he could go back to sleep
and prepare for it, tomorrow! Couldn’t
she have waited until morning? And
Like a wheelbarrow, the maid carried him
to the porch––He thanked her for that,
and she thanked him in her own way
for bringing Desde back. Then, she left. How
long ago had it been since someone helped
him up a stair? Tilting him up, then down
as if a baby rocked. All other stairs
On this island were accompanied by
a ramp––so had ordained the Mayor. Was
His house its only loophole? Mitka
looked back, but the maid was too far gone
into the night. The porch she’d helped him up
now cut off his retreat, and so he went
inside. The mansion was clearly built
for someone as able as the Mayor; Mitka
Felt helpless in its grandeur, each light-switch
like a sword in the stone, waiting for
a noble someone. He had to thrash to feel
how clean the maids had cleaned it, prior his
arrival. There was an upper floor, as
he’d feared, and between them climbed
a single spiral staircase. In this eden, how
could Mitka not feel odd, slithering up
and choking the pillar that birthed each step
caring his gut? The top floor was laden
with carpet, thick and clean enough to be
the towel that he took after his bath.
On this dessert of a bed, he began to think
back on the hot spring, grassy field, and of
her body. Her looks had cooled him––
snatched out like he was now, with no nook
for wind to hide in but her navel, carved
like a dune, as if excavated to provide
the flesh for nipples. Her legs were spread, if
only to make her feet more stuck together.
And her great double crossing knees!
His head had been over her heels––yet
it did nothing to him. Far from suggestive,
that afternoon gave Mitka dreams so chaste
that they disgusted him. Her order that
he clothe her up perhaps had been a test;
Yet he breathed no heavier, tasted nothing
but his tongue. Tempt him? Not with a waist
like his. He was so uncreative that he
couldn’t even insert himself into someone
who could enter her––that walking was
the farthest of his fantasies. Where
levels on rulers had their bubbles burst
from the low pressure, and pens spoke
with gargling ink, Mitka’s blood slept within,
unable to boil––and though he’d reached
the peak, he had not even come. Today
He’d pushed himself––this was a first,
bedding so high an altitude. Baede, his
sister, told him once that he was not
a burden for his weight, but for making
her take all the shortcuts. Since then,
he’d always opted for the detour––
hence, here. His hiccups and hurdles
had lifted him up this peak; his breach
of comfort zones had led him to his bed;
but he wasn’t expecting something to wake
him from these heights––and something
for which he’d have to rid his hiccups,
in order to pick up! What else woke him, but
a call––and who else called him but
Baede, calling with such big news that
made him so giddy that he was unsure
whether he could go back to sleep
and prepare for it, tomorrow! Couldn’t
she have waited until morning? And
26*
yet, he could not put off his doubt that it
was just a dream, until dawn. But before
he could, he found some messages
by Desde: “Molly, can you wake Mitt up?
seconds before “Oops! Wrong person.”
He scrolled past the two desde had sent,
fast enough to be a swipe, but not
before the doorbell rung, and gave way
to the voice of the [Maid]: Hey! you up yet?
[Mitka]: Heading down. is that you, Molly? I
expected Desde. [Maid Molly]: How’d you know
my––It’s Mallika to you, Di-Mi-Tri-OH!
Dess’s too busy getting preened by my
sister, so they sent me instead. Did you
sleep well? [M]: So well, I had to rest after
the sleep. After I’d gotten to the second floor,
it felt so comfortable that even moving
to the realm of sleep would have been a chore.
It worked me out that much! Please, thank Desde
for winding up a flight of stairs for me
to struggle up. [MO]: Ah, we should have noticed!
What an oversight––and after I had helped you
up the porch. I’m sorry. [M]: No need to balk
and bow. Just get me down the porch. One thing
I’d like to ask––What’s that gleam that rises
from the city? [MO]: Everyone’s rushing to
the mayor’s rally. I’m too tired to make it!
Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking of him
and Desde, and the time I peeped them through
the keyhole. It was less than a decade ago
that it was not you and me sitting here, but
Denis and her, thinking no one watched––
[M]: Hold on! it’s too early for gossip––but
I still would have breakfasted on it, had it
not been for someone calling me, at one
AM. [MO]: A call that early! Really?
What’d they say? If my own gossip doesn’t
tempt you, then won’t you share yours?
[M]: My older sister Baede called. She said
my uncle called to congratulate me on
getting my first job, and promised to turn
my heavy heart to thicker wads. This might be
the last time on this island for a while.
[MO]: Perfect way to take it in, up here––
most others wait their lives for this. And
Perfect time to leave this land, too: just
before the May rally! Even at these heights
you still find time to look up. Are you going
to tell Desde? [M]: No. Or maybe, when
I’m leaving––[Des?!]: Don’t bother! I heard
it all, and I don’t care! I’m even more curious
as to why you’d keep something like that
from me. And Molly, what’s that keyhole that
you mention? Leakers, all of you. [MO]: Yeah,
but when have you been quiet about ours?
You can’t even hide behind a bush to listen––
I even know you’re fleeing from my sister, by
your frazzled-ends! Just to eavesdrop, did
you––[D]: Yes! I admit it. Molly, will you help me
throw Emily off? It’s too soon to have her in
my hair. I’ve already paid my sleep debt––don’t
let her tax my cowlicks! [MO]: There’s little left
to comb, but little you can do to stop her––Ah,
it’s too late––[D]: Too early for be combed!#
was just a dream, until dawn. But before
he could, he found some messages
by Desde: “Molly, can you wake Mitt up?
seconds before “Oops! Wrong person.”
He scrolled past the two desde had sent,
fast enough to be a swipe, but not
before the doorbell rung, and gave way
to the voice of the [Maid]: Hey! you up yet?
[Mitka]: Heading down. is that you, Molly? I
expected Desde. [
my––It’s Mallika to you, Di-Mi-Tri-OH!
Dess’s too busy getting preened by my
sister, so they sent me instead. Did you
sleep well? [M]: So well, I had to rest after
the sleep. After I’d gotten to the second floor,
it felt so comfortable that even moving
to the realm of sleep would have been a chore.
It worked me out that much! Please, thank Desde
for winding up a flight of stairs for me
to struggle up. [MO]: Ah, we should have noticed!
What an oversight––and after I had helped you
up the porch. I’m sorry. [M]: No need to balk
and bow. Just get me down the porch. One thing
I’d like to ask––What’s that gleam that rises
from the city? [MO]: Everyone’s rushing to
the mayor’s rally. I’m too tired to make it!
Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking of him
and Desde, and the time I peeped them through
the keyhole. It was less than a decade ago
that it was not you and me sitting here, but
Denis and her, thinking no one watched––
[M]: Hold on! it’s too early for gossip––but
I still would have breakfasted on it, had it
not been for someone calling me, at one
AM. [MO]: A call that early! Really?
What’d they say? If my own gossip doesn’t
tempt you, then won’t you share yours?
[M]: My older sister Baede called. She said
my uncle called to congratulate me on
getting my first job, and promised to turn
my heavy heart to thicker wads. This might be
the last time on this island for a while.
[MO]: Perfect way to take it in, up here––
most others wait their lives for this. And
Perfect time to leave this land, too: just
before the May rally! Even at these heights
you still find time to look up. Are you going
to tell Desde? [M]: No. Or maybe, when
I’m leaving––[Des?!]: Don’t bother! I heard
it all, and I don’t care! I’m even more curious
as to why you’d keep something like that
from me. And Molly, what’s that keyhole that
you mention? Leakers, all of you. [MO]: Yeah,
but when have you been quiet about ours?
You can’t even hide behind a bush to listen––
I even know you’re fleeing from my sister, by
your frazzled-ends! Just to eavesdrop, did
you––[D]: Yes! I admit it. Molly, will you help me
throw Emily off? It’s too soon to have her in
my hair. I’ve already paid my sleep debt––don’t
let her tax my cowlicks! [MO]: There’s little left
to comb, but little you can do to stop her––Ah,
it’s too late––[D]: Too early for be combed!#
27*
Just then, Desde was ambushed by Emily
who came dashing to her, comb-in-hand
to undo the knots that Desde mulled over.
So, Mitka’s uncle was soon flying him out?
Perhaps the guest-house for ambassadors
really had suited him. His first time here, and
the last time on this island for a while!
it was only proper for to send him off
with a keep-sake. A look askance was all it took
for Molly to rush in the house and pull out
an army-jacket. He’d seen those shows of strength
that marched upon the streets––but only when
Molly donned it on him and he felt those pleats
did Mitka truly understand their might.
[D]: A weave fits you better than a knit, doesn’t it?
Emily’s done most of my hair––shall we go get
your ticket, my cadet? [M]: But Molly promised
to let me watch the rally live. [D]: Yes, but
I promised yesterday to take you to
the seer. [M]: Molly, help me––[MO]: Help me
by not looking at me! Master, he’s
not arguing with you, but with his past self.
He’s cowardly because he got the job now
and is afraid to see its outcome. [D]: Molly,
why don’t you ever vouch for me like that?
Are you hiding something––will you free up
the keyhole, for me to peer inside? Ah, that’s
a better question for Mitka’s hands. Don’t
worry! I’ll shoot my questions into them
and let you know whether they’re fated to
hold yours. Ladies, enjoy yourselves! This man’s
getting his palm read, or he’s getting slapped. #
who came dashing to her, comb-in-hand
to undo the knots that Desde mulled over.
So, Mitka’s uncle was soon flying him out?
Perhaps the guest-house for ambassadors
really had suited him. His first time here, and
the last time on this island for a while!
it was only proper for to send him off
with a keep-sake. A look askance was all it took
for Molly to rush in the house and pull out
an army-jacket. He’d seen those shows of strength
that marched upon the streets––but only when
Molly donned it on him and he felt those pleats
did Mitka truly understand their might.
[D]: A weave fits you better than a knit, doesn’t it?
Emily’s done most of my hair––shall we go get
your ticket, my cadet? [M]: But Molly promised
to let me watch the rally live. [D]: Yes, but
I promised yesterday to take you to
the seer. [M]: Molly, help me––[MO]: Help me
by not looking at me! Master, he’s
not arguing with you, but with his past self.
He’s cowardly because he got the job now
and is afraid to see its outcome. [D]: Molly,
why don’t you ever vouch for me like that?
Are you hiding something––will you free up
the keyhole, for me to peer inside? Ah, that’s
a better question for Mitka’s hands. Don’t
worry! I’ll shoot my questions into them
and let you know whether they’re fated to
hold yours. Ladies, enjoy yourselves! This man’s
getting his palm read, or he’s getting slapped. #