Ariel
Sometimes I think I’d be better off still stuck in that
Tree trunk. At least it was quiet there. I’d gotten pretty far
Into my oral dissertation on post-colonial theory
And its manifold ramifications on certain works of
Early Stewart poetry when a knock rattled at my knotted
Door. You could tell he was a prick just from hearing it,
That sort of gestapo ratatat-tat that goes ‘Open up,
You coloured bugger, or I shall be forced to do something nasty’
And then does it anyway. Anyway, fool I was, I answered.
It’s been a long year.
At least it wasn’t just me. This isle was damned well
Full of noises and more than half of them had ended up
On the Milanese payroll some way or another. Caliban,
That poisonous git, pretty much rolled out the whole
Red carpet just after I’d been forcibly added to the list
Of dramatis personae. Personally, I think he was wasted.
Never could handle his liquor, bad as his witchy
Forefathers. And after that, there was no hope for us.
She was alright. A sweet thing, plenty kind and innocent
And all that maiden bullshit. Of course, with a dad like that
And no decent blokes around for miles, I’d think
You’d have to be. We never talked much. He didn’t like it,
And what he didn’t like we learnt to avoid like fire.
Can’t say I’ll miss her, but I hope that that whole prince thing
Goes her way. I didn’t understand much of it and, really,
Neither did our lord and master, whatever he says.
I was instrumental in every element of our escapade.
A knavish sprite, a flaming amazement, you name it,
I performed it with verve and perspicacity. Acting
Was always my forte, and with twelve years to practice
Servitude I’d gotten rather good at it. The ship crashed
Thanks to a couple of favours I cashed in with
My friends in the oceans, cousins in floods and blood and bile.
His brother was there. It was therapeutic, the way I ravaged him
And tore his dainty sanity limb from limb from limb.
They looked enough alike. The wizard, the madman,
My master, got what he wanted in style and left us.
In leaving, he freed me and kissed me on the cheek.
Our isle is silent now. It’s empty. They’re just gone
And nothing’s changed but everything. Prospero,
You gave us freedom, a blank page and space
To start again, but did you know it wouldn’t be
Enough? I think you did.
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