Losing Hold
 |
| look at the disappearing numbers! |
NARRATOR
Two Husbands:
big heads, wide faces;
grins or not
Ecstatic speculation,
then disappointment.
Clenched fingers in knotted palms.
Clenched hands, clenched fingers
into frustrated fists
with nowhere to go.
SMALLY sighs,
Back to the miserable graphs
and the squares of numbers.
Into the immoveable black net again,
where numbers’ pains persist.
BIGGY
Where numbers’ pains surround and belch!
SMALLY
Or they get added on to -
to grow discomfortably fat,
un-proportionately unequal to each other,
not the same -
at odds!
BIGGY
Ruthless, toothless and raw -
rather bad -
not responding, un-regarding,
foolhardy speculations!
SMALLY
With their bottoms falling out.
BIGGY
Square boxes losing respect
for their own equalities!
(Biggy and Smally stand back from the graph)
NARRATOR
Square boxes twisting and turning -
being bent and stretching -
sort of semi-collapsing upon each other...
(A high-pitched squeaking sound emits from the wall)
And then, a howl!
A hole made of wiry black jaws appears
and sucks in
all the remaining numbers rapidly
into itself,
with a squeeze or a pop.
And the Husbands’ numbers are gone!
swiftly out of reach
up off the wall
and then into the graph.
Right shock and awe
has reached their face.
Their clambering fingers
have no where to reach
and clench into themselves,
fisting impotently, without charm,
in front of the broadening white space
where long chains of square black boxes
dissolve and disappear -
their mental compartments
closing off into the one hole!
BIGGY perplexed,
Our black mental squares are not containing anything!
They are spread off by the white mist continuing
beside our work - regardless of it.
 |
| something strange is happening on the board! |
SMALLY
Prepare a number:
it cannot or will not stay in its place.
BIGGY
There it moves
and by clouds it is caught
and trails off,
leaving no prints on this mist!
SMALLY
Yes, it goes into the clouds -
into these broadening white walls
with nothing.
BIGGY
No graphs, wires or holdings -
or containers.
No workings, sympathetically.
SMALLY
No conducive springs
or leaps or bounds into one another.
No glad tidings. No respect.
 |
| two men in a quandary |
BIGGY
A failure? Is that what we see here?
SMALLY
The black compartments had a way
of containing themselves with dignity
but not now.
Now, they’re all molding together
without boundaries and are losing hold
upon their own significance.
BIGGY
You mean, we’re losing our hold
upon their significance.
SMALLY
They are losing their holds
upon their separately chosen places.
And upon ours, too - as we can no longer fit
inside the graph together, either - mentally.
BIGGY, becoming surly,
Their holds
are not being claimed.
They’re clanging together
and creating one most disturbing,
disappearing mass.
It’s like all the black lines chose
to thread their stiff, wiry way
into a hole: a tiny spick of a dot
that resembles a dent in the wall -
a prick there stunk in!
And they are perceived, or not,
as possibly continuing.
But not!
SMALLY
I don’t know?
BIGGY
I suppose.
SMALLY
But continuing when? Where?
If they’re really already gone...?
 |
| four birds pull out the 2 Husbands' graph! |
(The Two Husbands continue gabbling at each other; while, mysteriously, outside of their office window four strong birds are seen to be flying away with the graph chart!)
NARRATOR
Later, alone in his office, Biggy has a dreamy vision
of a wondrous creature.
ONLOOKER
Could his vision be of someone unknown
who replaces the numbers on the graph? | |
| A Wondrous Creature |
(End of Chapter 9)
Interesting how the numbers are losing their grip on their place in the world, and the men are too. Your writing is so creative and full of wonderfully imaginative visions. It seems like there are always situations where your characters' situations can be juxtaposed with the inanimate objects in the story. What is happening to them on one level is also taking place with the characters on another level. You know what I mean?
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