Silver – stanza 8.3

Right here, look at this, Malinov dates his
Entry by reference to the Mardi Gras as being
Three days after his visit to see Black Marx
Which I remember as clearly as any memory
The strange trail that led us to the underground
Club where Marx and his minions performed
At first, these passages sounded familiar
Like some old forgotten movie I’d seen
But as I go, my role in these scenes
Changes from observer to central participant
As though I was Malinov and I was there
But Mardi Gras is Carnival and I was in Rio
That weekend, I had a performance on Saturday
Night and after the show, I went to dinner
With a few other dancers and some local
Bigwigs, we were out until two and then
I went back to my hotel, got up later than
I like, forcing me to rush my routines
Getting ready for the afternoon matinee
So I was not at a club in Baltimore that
Night, at no point in time could I be
Because I have never been to Maryland
Even to this day, all my business has
Been in Arlington and Falls Church with
The occasional foray into D.C. proper
So why do I remember the visit to the
Club so clearly? This is really weird
Even now, I feel like I’m being told to relax
But I don’t think I’m the one talking

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Silver – stanza 7.3

Malinov began his search journal by going
To a bar downtown for a poetry reading
Now I’m not much of a reader and maybe
This guy Malinov is one hell of a writer
But when he mentioned pulling the door
Handle to go into the bar, I can see the
Whole thing happen in my mind, like it was me
I don’t think I’ve ever been to that particular
Bar, who knows, maybe I walked past it
Or maybe I’m just very imaginative
But it didn’t end there, walking down
Stairs past paintings he didn’t describe
Yet I can see them clearly, I remember them
He says hello to the bartender, Julie, whom
He never named, how do I know her name?
Or why do I think I know her, a person
Identified only as “the bartender?”
It all started to creep me out so I put
Malinov’s journal aside and opened
The history to the first page where I
Was introduced to a young man called
Malinov and the castle in Germany
Sounded familiar but I spent two years
Dancing in Berlin so I wasn’t surprised
I liked visiting the old buildings
The castles, churches, monasteries
Pushing people to take me and once there
Persuading them to let me in secret chambers
Sometimes getting my way is my pleasure

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Silver – stanza 6.3

“There are people who live forever, although
Not in the conventional way but by passing
From one life to the next, possessing vessels
Living their life through until they die and
Pass into the next vessel – no one understands
It, even proving it happens, no studies have
Been made of us. Silver says it is our will
To live that allows us to persist this way
And if anyone would know, it is her domain”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, “if I’m being
Honest, that sounds completely ridiculous”
“I know, I know it does; you aren’t the
First person to say so, not the first by far
Even so, it is the case, I assure you, and what’s
More, you have witnessed up close an encounter
Between immortals, played the lead role
In some ways; if you would indulge me
We are in a unique situation, the most
Perfectly documented episode in our history
It would only be improved if I had Courlain’s
Side of the story, or yours, you haven’t by
Chance kept a diary these last six months?”
“No sir,” I said, “not really my style.”
“Understood if you happen to feel inclined
To write memoirs, I would appreciate it.”
I responded weakly with a nod, fully
Believing it unlikely that I would ever write
“This is the story and background
Of your last six months. Please read them.”

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Silver – stanza 5.3

Since the night of the performance, not before
Everyone here has been calling Allison Silver
And stranger yet, Allison answers to the name
More readily, at ease even, than when I call
Her by the name I and everyone else does
Odd enough, but people often go by pet names
Especially among a familiar crowd, the Tiger
Some have called me, a few intimate friends
But this journal labelled Silver in Razor’s hand
Is Allison’s journal – on the third page, she refers
To herself as Allison, that was actually my
First clue that Allison is Silver, I skimmed
Ahead to make sure I wasn’t just confused
In the beginning, she is Allison and by the end
She calls herself Silver, no explanation
Now over the year covered by her diary
She goes from being a modest, mediocre
Poorly trained, moderately dedicated
Mostly unambitious company dancer
And just in the first twenty pages, as though
A light went on inside her head, she changes
Not as a person, not that I would notice
Since I didn’t know and wouldn’t have known her
But as a dancer, her words become focused
Into the mindset of a skilled, experienced
Dancer – I’m no expert on language or
Psychology but I know the voice of a real
Ballet dancer – Allison was barely one
But Silver, whoever she is, is a ballerina

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Silver – stanza 1.3

Courlain leapt, catching hold of another rope
Raised himself, hand over hand, struggling
On, forcing himself further on his climb to
Nowhere; when Malinov reached the rafter
Courlain had just flown from, he paused
Catching his breath as he sized up the jump
He heard Tasha call his name and turned
Losing his balance, he fell, “Go to her.”
Courlain halted his climb to witness the fall
Screamed “No!” and then he began to fall
Falling, falling, falling, continuing the chase
In an all-too-fatal race to the bottom
The last ten meters were hidden, thankfully
From my view, sparing me the horrific sight
But I was not spared the awful sound
An aural memory that will haunt me forever
I turned to Allison and Madame Tasha
Expecting to find them shocked, devastated
By the proximate and grisly death of two
Men they knew and even seemed to love
But they chatted on, old friends reunited
Even though Allison had seen Madame Tasha
Every day for months, when ambulances
Arrived and began to scatter the crowd
Madame Tasha took a hold of my arm
“Come along now, let’s go,” she said
I asked if we shouldn’t give a statement
To the police; “Don’t be silly,” she said
“They’d never believe us if we tried.”

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Silver – stanza 28.2

“Allison,” he said. She looked over. “Silver.”
She blinked and her composure began to fail
A long year of separation snapped to an end
Only hours after she’d realized he was gone
I stood a few feet away, lost in my love
For her as she recognized this man she clearly
Loved, more than she loved me, although
They were only just now meeting, we’d
Known each other for centuries and more
I watched as I kissed Allison, every day
Of the long year melting in our lips touch
Courlain erupted, racing over screaming
Cursing and blaspheming as he thrust Malinov
Away from his protégé, taking a look
At the intruder and shouted, “You!”
“Randolph,” said Allison though we knew
Him by a different name, “Stop pretending”
“I will have you again,” he said racing
Away; Tasha appeared with a touch
“Malinov, go get him before he hurts himself
Silver, are you with us again, is that what
I’m to believe from Courlain’s histrionics?
I guess his scheme didn’t play out
According to his egotistic machinations
He’s always like this when he doesn’t
Get his way, look at him, how high
He’s climbed, I would have thought he’d
Have fallen by this time, there he goes
Again, Hey, Malinov! Go to her!

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Silver – stanza 27.2

I think we can pin-point the moment of
Silver’s complete return as she realized that
Within her – I mean Allison’s – affection for
Courlain screamed a suspicion, a distrust
That wasn’t vague, no spark of intuition
But stark fresh memories that reached
Through centuries of this man and yet not
In a way she fully understood, a richer
More developed relationship than a young
Woman could know and she relaxed
To Allison, the confusion of the past six months
Put her off balance, left her mind a mess
To Silver, everything made perfect sense
She knew Courlain was scheming, placing
Me in her path, plotting his untimely death
She knew Tasha, knew what she meant
Could only hope to know what Tasha wanted
Most of all, she realized Malinov had yet
To make an appearance, knew then that
She needed to watch for him, for tonight
The Gala performance, would surely catch
His attention; the poems, she remembered
With a smile, they had seemed familiar
And, at once, she knew why and where
She could find him once the show ended
Adding another new ritual to her routine
She read through his poems, feeling
His words, his voice, his presence, his touch
And began selecting her shoes to dance

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