Psyche

Originally part of an artist residency at the Victoria and Albert Museum, Summer 2013.

1.

Cupid:

I walked back from work along the beach that day. We’d not finished until later than expected, the sun was almost set on the pier and I’d always loved the sight of it there, cut in half by the old railings with the blue paint half peeled to dust.

I’d walked slowly past the stalls with cockles for sale, them on my right with the dying sun on the left. The reddish light bleeding into the water made the pier seem as if it had stabbed the sky. Hard to think then of the arcades and old ten-pence machines littered at the end.

I should’ve been home by then. There was dinner to pick up, TV to watch. She’d be sleeping beside me at night, her head turned against the pillow, her body unmoving. When we’d first married she’d always snored. Now she was always silent as she slept.

I took the time to walk off the street, over the beach with the pebbles felt under foot. The sea spread out, grew darker as the sun dipped below. There was time yet to enjoy it; shoes slid off, socks tucked away.

I felt the foam of the waves then, watched the pier stand on the sea.

2.

Psyche:

Look at your eyes drifting from place to place, hanging from one wall then another, grazing along the edges of the ceiling, waiting in the corners. I see you looking at all below; your strong legs, your arms, your chest. I see the skin between your shoulders and your neck. I see your lips. I’m happy that you are here.

I was born the most beautiful of three sisters. I say this not because of pride but because it’s what I was told. My beauty was so great that the Goddess of Love grew jealous and saw fit to claim that I was cursed. You above all know that love can forgive, it can forgive all things but jealousy. In punishment for my good looks I was cursed to wed not a man but a beast, a monster who would put his seed in me and the child that I bore him would be a monster also; a creature who would conquer nations, leave them turned to dust and ruin. All this I was told.

My father, he was not a brave man. When he heard the prophecy he would not let me stay.

He took me to a cliff, my two sisters stood behind, and there in the sight of the sea, in sight of the sun as it bowed behind the waves, he offered me up.

King:                           Whatever slithers out from between your legs will kill us all. The wind will take you now daughter.

Psyche:                       I’ll remember you all, my mother, my father, my sisters. I’ll remember you all, each face and smile.

King:                           Passive aggressiveness is not a virtue.

My toes were dug into the earth, a few inches further and my body would tumble to a heap of broken bones. I was stripped, my clothes taken, my skin soon turned to goose-bumps. In front of me the sea spread out, grew darker as the sun dipped below.

Sister 1:                       Are your nipples numb, sister?

Sister 2:                       Will the wind be able to carry away a stone statue?

Psyche:                       If I look down I can see the waves below coming one on one. The rocks look hard, sisters. If I fall I will smash to pieces.

King:                           Then close your eyes, my daughter. Shut them tight.

So I did. All was dark then.

So I waited…

(Wind builds)

And the wind came…

(Wind builds)

And it came…

(Wind builds)

And it blew me away.

I spiralled downwards. For how long I fell I do not know, but when I awoke I was in a different place. No cliff remained. No sea below. I was stood in a tower with columns piled one beside the other, each on a platform, each platform piled on another below.

By day I could walk the stairs of the tower as I chose, pass into alcoves and dine in the gallery. But at night I was to walk down, step by step, to the dark chamber below.

3.

Psyche:

And he found me there, splayed on the sheets with nothing on and legs akimbo.  My breasts were out to kiss the air but if you’d been in that room you’d see not a single thing, not an inch of flesh. Complete darkness was all that was lain out in front of me; a black silken sheet draped over every curve and sweep of me, light over my sockets, heavy in how it sat on my chest.

The way that darkness pressed down on my body, resting snuggly on the tips of fingers and toes, it was not until his fingers made themselves known that I jolted back to life.

And you can imagine it was a shock.

They’d whispered over and over, as I was led to the edge of the cliff, as I’d stood there naked with only seagulls cracking up at the sight of a woman waiting for the wind to take her away. They’d told me then that it would be a monster who would have me. With no light in that room it was the monster that I imagined. A great big heaving beast, mouth open, fangs wet at the sight of me there, a sight which even I couldn’t see in the darkness of the bedroom. I heard the springs through the mattress, the squeeze and release of them as he moved closer to me lain with a pillow against my head.

I’d planned to kick out. Whatever monsters may be like I was sure they’d all come down quick enough with a knee in the right location. My muscles tensed in the dark, without anything to see there it seemed they tensed even harder, coiled up in shaking rows, ready to spring out at whatever body-part came close enough.

But he has a hand on each ankle now, and I’ve not yet kicked.

He’d kissed me there and I had not yet kicked.

4.

Cupid:

The pier cut into the shore, my feet dug deep in the wet sand. I should have gone home by then, the time on my phone later than I had thought it would be, but I only stared deeper into the waves away on the shore.

In the dimness I’d lain on her but she felt unmoving.

She’d sighed and her dark eyes seemed so far away.

And it was such a good old pier. It was funny that I hadn’t noticed; that without knowing I’d begun to trace the path I’d always traced, as if it were the only possible direction to take: Down the boards above the sea.

The pier had been here when we’d first moved to the coast, it had been here long before that. In pictures before the war it was there, the last century it was there. The spread of it, the posts below all pressed in the shore. Each post was so ornate. Each one a tower that spiralled down.

I walked step by step towards the end, towards the sea ceaseless, unending.

5.

Psyche:

At first I’d not known what to do. I’d let him take me like I’d seen dogs do in the street. In the dark I could think of other things. I’d think of home, of food.

But as the days turned to weeks…

Soon I would wait impatiently for night to come, when I would be led down the stairs to the dark room with him there. On the veranda I’d watch the sun set into the sea below, my heart beating when it went out of sight.

A heavy dark

A whispered breath against my neck

A finger tip

I waited each night until I could feel his lips on my spine. When could feel him tracing downwards, step by step.

My father had told me that I would be with child, that whatever babe was to be born with my husband would eat me up. It would slip out of me like a terrible fish they’d said, snapping up at the mess, chewing and swallowing, filling its belly until my flesh was stripped from my bones.

I wouldn’t let it.  I’d told myself I’d smash its little head in as soon as it crowned. Bash it flat. My own child would not tear me piece to piece! I’d squeeze it and hit it and pull it out and swing it against the wall.

So scared so scared

Open up

And still his lips tracing downwards.

Open up

I wondered if there were others watching me. All looking in the dark from balconies far above where I lay.

6.

Cupid:

Peering over the edge I looked for my face in the waters below, but I was too high and the waves were too fast, they would not keep still. Any face in that water would taken apart and thrown in every direction; cut up and split between the reflected lights dancing one way then the other.

7.

Psyche:

I was not seeing things. There were two faces who looked down at me. Up I gazed and there, peering from above between the columns of my tower, were two women’s faces, my two sisters’ faces.

Sister 1:                      Sister, where is your husband?

Psyche:                       He’s waiting for me in the bedroom.

Sister 2:                     Oh sister, does he have big teeth?

Psyche:                      Yes sister, as big as a crocodile.

Sister 1:                     Does he have big claws?

Psyche:                      As big as an eagle.

Sister 2:                     Oh beautiful sister, what colour are his eyes?

Psyche:                      …I...I don’t know.

What colour would they be? As a wife I should know. Would they be as brown as a forest? As blue as the sky?

Look on his face and see the eyes of death.

And so, that night in the dark room my hand shook as I reached to light the candle. The box of matches hidden under the pillow, I’d been so careful for the striking not to make a sound.

8.

Cupid:

In the dimness I’d lain on her but she felt unmoving.

She’d sighed and her dark eyes seemed so far away.

9.

Psyche:

A heavy dark

A whispered breath against my neck

A finger tip

He traced his kisses down my spine. Step by step. Tracing the path he’d always taken, each time i’d lain with him; a path half remembered but always followed, a kiss followed a kiss, my ribs turned to arches, my limbs to columns, my spine to steps...

And suddenly I was afraid. If I lit the candle would it fall apart? Every sigh and ache, every arch of my back that i’d built on those sheets, crumbled to dust.

Would the light change me?

My lips parted and a moan passed into the air. His lips had spiralled from my back, step by step, falling once more down my front and I remembered tumbling all those months ago; the edge of the cliff above me, the rocks streaming upwards, the sea spread below.

I do not know how long I fell, but the light of the candle pricked the dark.

Gentle listener, I did exactly as i’d planned. I lit the candle and looked at what I could see. Through that gap in the blackness I saw my husband’s face.

It was no monster there. All the things I’d felt on him when he’d been on me, all the ridges of his spines, the teeth ready to strip, the legs of a beast, the snake between, none of that was there. All the things I’d used to make up a picture in my mind, things I’d felt with my own fingers in the dark, felt as they’d passed over…all that melted away.

In the faint candle-light there was only the face of a boy. 

10.

Cupid:

No-one else stood on the pier. A long time had passed before I’d looked for the time again.

She’d be asleep now. No missed calls.

I looked at the surface of the water peering through the gaps in the boardwalk. I was as far as I could go, as far as the pier went.

Where has my desire gone?

Please, God, help me find it.

And I’ve tried. I’d cooked us dinner and listened to her speak, tried my hardest to keep eye contact. But she’d known what I’d wanted, maybe that was what made it so pathetic.

We’d done it with the lights off. It didn’t take very long. It was over and she was soon sleep, her head turned towards the pillow.

Where has my desire gone?

I looked down from the edge of the pier, the waves darkly lit, each rise and fall barely seen and I thought I’d wait there a little longer.