Canto VII: Kulpa Seeds His Feast
The poet said: Observing as they loved,
Kulpa, feaster of the pain of guilt
began to form a plan, his hunger great.
He waited for the sleep of drink to come,
and changing form as is the specialty
of all his kind, descended in to Fe’s
sleeping visions in the form of Hul
to sow the seeds of fear in fertile soil
as Fe’s subconscious tried to understand
the wild change this evening would impose.
Fe saw a vision of the coming years;
her dreaming mind convinced its eye told true.
And in the vision Hul was not himself,
but hoarded all the sweetest yields of food
their newfound paradise produced for them.
She saw at first the genesis of greed:
How she and Hul would gather fruit at once,
and he, believing she would not catch on,
would stash an extra fruit away at times.
Greed grew when as the two would hunt, Hul claimed
the finer cuts for his own side, his claim
that he played greater instrument and so
did orchestrate the symphony of hunt,
and his rapacity prevented Fe’s
dispute, in silence, as we sometimes dream.
At last, did Kulpa show her how it ends,
and spoke in final confrontation tones:
Do you recognize the black walls that once held hope’s potent seed?
What fools dream of a mother who can forever give to twin young;
a burden on the graying flesh of womb.
Who can blame the strong yolk which devours,
or the twin that vanishes?
And silent as before, Fe turned around
to view a vision scarcely speakable:
The kin of Hul were gathered ‘round a fire
in banquet black, consuming fowl of sort,
or some small bird-- the kind she did not know
until she came a little closer still--
the family round the fire ate her young;
the child of child which from her womb was sprung
grand daughter, face in final horror stopped
and visible through char and smouldering ash.
And from this vision Fe, in fright awoke,
to throbbing head and Hul beside her place
still sleeping heavy in his liquor stoop.