William Heyen – Ⅳ
The Devil’s Song
1.
Once within a rhyme
within the oldest olden time
a farmer bought a devil
handsome red-shelled fellow
the first in memory to surface
at the country marketplace
other gawkers were afraid
but our farmer proved intrepid
(needing help with so much work
to ease his aching back)
black horns & walleyes & black cleft hooves
many before have fallen in love
“he lives to toil” the merchant said
“keep the tasks above his head
“he’ll eat little and drink nothing
he won’t talk but might be praying”
& then this fellow sidled away
not since seen in the light of day
the farmer hauled his purchase home
one day one night by mountain road
its cage creaked on his mule-drawn cart
but did not break apart
they drew the attention of pine & owl
the mule heard laughter from the moon’s sickle
the devil squatted & seemed innocent
of guile or malevolent intent
wife & three young children met them
the kids squealed & asked to pet him
but the woman met his stare & knew
what the devil had been through
she lost all color in her eyes
& dreamt that night of paradise
as though she’d reawakened there
with fire roses in her hair
as though she’d witnessed the arcangel’s
destined disobedience & betrayal
2.
next morn our farmer fitted a collar
& ox’s harness of thick leather
to the devil’s crustacean shoulders
he had to cut vestigial feathers
the devil hissed his forked tongue but agreed
seemed anxious to furrow a field
he pulled the ploughshare easily
through roots & stones & honeybees
the farmer’s field & a neighbor’s & another’s
so much for laborious country labor
late afternoon they went woodchopping
four winters of fuel by evening
the axe entrusted to the devil’s claws
a whistling blade among the trees
the scales along his spine fanned o-
pen then shut with every stroke
then back to its cage it ate
just red onions from its plate
it would not touch the water
not a sip or licked dipped finger
so it went on for days & seasons …
the region’s farmers on vacation
from plowing reaping cutting wood
& all was peace & all waxed good
the owner’s wife still dreamt her dreams
pupils of flowers were filled with flames
her own irises an absence of color
her children teased & laughed at her
at night in the barn the devil glowed
it sang to itself a ballad weird
(don’t try to penetrate that song
fated since heaven where it was born)
no one ever saw it sleep
it didn’t care what watch they’d keep
tra-la-lally this devil’s story
born from the stars in devils’ glory
3.
such order to field-barn-home-larder
three summers later our farmer returned to market
thought to rest his prize possession
left his devil behind with wife & children
with nothing to do for once but slumber
& gorge on red onions without number
his master drank with friends two days or three
not a care in the world … but became uneasy
thinking of home-larder-fields-barn
& that silent spade-tailed one
so bought some things devils might yearn for
liquor & berry syrup & milk of ambrosia
he left for home urging his mules faster & faster
one night one day he at last got closer
to where he saw smoke distantly
where his life was supposed to be
he left his cart & ran ahead
his whole being suffused with dread
as though this were a nightmare
of mules braying in his ear
his children were sickled their hearts eaten
their mother raped & nailed to a tree
(two boys & a girl if the truth be specific
but which was which in this horrific)
barn only a smoldering ruin wherein
on ashes sat our innocent satan
handsome still & perhaps still thirsty
but restless for this reunion & ready
twiddling his thumbs he had no other
work to do he tightened his own collar
pretended not to understand just why
his master wailed in agony
who looked for his axe which he couldn’t find
then screamed at the devil until going blind
the devil kept twiddling his thumbs faster
& faster into a blur
faster & faster than our passing days
or whispers of fear at the marketplace
tra-la-lally this devil’s story
born from the stars in devils’ glory
1.
Once within a rhyme
within the oldest olden time
a farmer bought a devil
handsome red-shelled fellow
the first in memory to surface
at the country marketplace
other gawkers were afraid
but our farmer proved intrepid
(needing help with so much work
to ease his aching back)
black horns & walleyes & black cleft hooves
many before have fallen in love
“he lives to toil” the merchant said
“keep the tasks above his head
“he’ll eat little and drink nothing
he won’t talk but might be praying”
& then this fellow sidled away
not since seen in the light of day
the farmer hauled his purchase home
one day one night by mountain road
its cage creaked on his mule-drawn cart
but did not break apart
they drew the attention of pine & owl
the mule heard laughter from the moon’s sickle
the devil squatted & seemed innocent
of guile or malevolent intent
wife & three young children met them
the kids squealed & asked to pet him
but the woman met his stare & knew
what the devil had been through
she lost all color in her eyes
& dreamt that night of paradise
as though she’d reawakened there
with fire roses in her hair
as though she’d witnessed the arcangel’s
destined disobedience & betrayal
2.
next morn our farmer fitted a collar
& ox’s harness of thick leather
to the devil’s crustacean shoulders
he had to cut vestigial feathers
the devil hissed his forked tongue but agreed
seemed anxious to furrow a field
he pulled the ploughshare easily
through roots & stones & honeybees
the farmer’s field & a neighbor’s & another’s
so much for laborious country labor
late afternoon they went woodchopping
four winters of fuel by evening
the axe entrusted to the devil’s claws
a whistling blade among the trees
the scales along his spine fanned o-
pen then shut with every stroke
then back to its cage it ate
just red onions from its plate
it would not touch the water
not a sip or licked dipped finger
so it went on for days & seasons …
the region’s farmers on vacation
from plowing reaping cutting wood
& all was peace & all waxed good
the owner’s wife still dreamt her dreams
pupils of flowers were filled with flames
her own irises an absence of color
her children teased & laughed at her
at night in the barn the devil glowed
it sang to itself a ballad weird
(don’t try to penetrate that song
fated since heaven where it was born)
no one ever saw it sleep
it didn’t care what watch they’d keep
tra-la-lally this devil’s story
born from the stars in devils’ glory
3.
such order to field-barn-home-larder
three summers later our farmer returned to market
thought to rest his prize possession
left his devil behind with wife & children
with nothing to do for once but slumber
& gorge on red onions without number
his master drank with friends two days or three
not a care in the world … but became uneasy
thinking of home-larder-fields-barn
& that silent spade-tailed one
so bought some things devils might yearn for
liquor & berry syrup & milk of ambrosia
he left for home urging his mules faster & faster
one night one day he at last got closer
to where he saw smoke distantly
where his life was supposed to be
he left his cart & ran ahead
his whole being suffused with dread
as though this were a nightmare
of mules braying in his ear
his children were sickled their hearts eaten
their mother raped & nailed to a tree
(two boys & a girl if the truth be specific
but which was which in this horrific)
barn only a smoldering ruin wherein
on ashes sat our innocent satan
handsome still & perhaps still thirsty
but restless for this reunion & ready
twiddling his thumbs he had no other
work to do he tightened his own collar
pretended not to understand just why
his master wailed in agony
who looked for his axe which he couldn’t find
then screamed at the devil until going blind
the devil kept twiddling his thumbs faster
& faster into a blur
faster & faster than our passing days
or whispers of fear at the marketplace
tra-la-lally this devil’s story
born from the stars in devils’ glory
