Silver – stanza 26

Not long ago, about a year ago
When I was dancing across South America
Silver and Malinov had been together
Since the war between the states
Roaming the country, experiencing freedom
Practicing arts in their distinct ways
Courlain, back from Europe, and presumably
From Tasha, finally found the loving duo
In northern Virginia, playing power games
He moved in close, tried to watch unobserved
Ready to spring a new trap, to lure her away
But Silver recognized him without revealing
Her insight so that as he proceeded she
Led him by the nose until he’d almost ruined
His chances, but in typical Courlain fashion
He killed them instead, knowing the chaos
That would follow simultaneous death
And no predesignated vessels to take them
He would remain cognizant, find the new
Silver and whisk her away before Malinov
Even knew who he was; a fire consumed
Them and Courlain laid in wait, knowing
Their first instinct, before becoming self-aware
Would be to express themselves, so he used
His wealth of artistic experience and wealth
To ingratiate himself in the local art scenes
To keep an eye on the kinds of youth
He would expect Silver to favor and also
To keep a look-out for Malinov reborn

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Silver – stanza 25

It didn’t take long for Malinov to discover
The recital that was being planned, even
Less to discern the hand of Courlain behind
The scenes, capturing Silver in her unevolved
Form, mostly a young dancer with growing
Shades of a woman who has danced forever
Captivating her heart before she knows what
She’s about, lying in wait, preparing to pounce
The show was scheduled for Sunday, a huge
Event drawing ballet lovers from the city
And coast, inflated prices keeping the less
Fortunate at bay, black tie and gowns
So he bought a ticket, dressed himself fine
Ordered some flowers, made his plan
Prepared himself for his reunion with Silver
Separated this strange past year, returning
To memory within the thoughts and feeling
Of a young man still present, still dominant
But transformed into the consciousness of men
Who lived through centuries, various, varied
Artistry and skills, a modern mind
Connected by consciousness to each and
Every moment, Instinctively drawn
To his search for Silver, love he had known
And nurtured from one life to another
Though composed of a litany of women
Each a willful, beautiful individual
Silver was more than the sum of those lives
An ephemeral quality, an infinite pearl

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Silver – stanza 24

Malinov found them on a plantation, a few
Years before the American Civil War erupted
Courlain and Silver lived as a couple
A licentious, outrageous, free thinking life
Insulated by swamps as they practiced vices
Less scandalous now than in 1858, even
In the creole shadow of uncivilization
Malinov entered into society, an elegant rogue
Sauntering into town with rumors of trouble
No one tried too hard to uncover the truth
But no one could resist wondering, speculating
Vaguely of romantic misdeeds bound to increase
The appeal of this rough and swarthy European
And the opportunity to meet Silver assured
Followed soon by a private interview with her
Recognizing Malinov for the man he was
Part of her loved him, a hundred years
Of love for Randolph, in league with uncounted
Years that went before, begged her loyalty
But there was something cavalier, insincere
In Courlain’s loose and sometimes nasty take
On love stole the passion from his ardent
Admirers and Silver decided to run away
With Malinov, Courlain grew suspicious
Not that Silver was intending to desert him
But that Malinov was taking advantage
Of his tolerance to rob him monetarily
So he challenged Malinov to a duel
And Malinov fought Courlain left-handed

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Silver – stanza 23

In Allison’s diary, I read her account
Of a small dinner party I attended
Which, I have to admit, made me
Uncomfortable, intruding on this young
Woman’s private thoughts, although
Curiosity led me to rip through the pages
Like a glutton devouring a piece of cake
To Allison, I feel ashamed but I realize
That she was, even then, Silver, a being
Beyond powerful, with no need of sympathy
It was late when we went to dinner
Courlain and Allison and I along with
The director, a few patrons and an
Old dancer, the meal and wine should
Have been gilded, they were so dear
I was enchanted with Allison, make
No mistake, our time on the floor had
Cemented my desire for her, body and soul
But in her journal, I discovered, my ego
Had moved too fast in my assumptions
As she looked to Courlain, expecting
Advances from him that never came
To her surprise, he remained unresponsive
And led her by subtle proddings
To prefer me, highlighting my strength
Telling tales of my successes, framed
In flattery and exaggerated effectively
When the night ended she respected him
And declared her everlasting love for me

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Silver – stanza 22

A trip to the gallery went nowhere, proved nothing
I wasn’t even sure he was trying anymore
Going through the motions, starting to despair
In part because the plastic arts, painting, sculpture
Take the longest of the arts to discover, getting out
Into view, gallery space, fairs, coffee shops
Don’t come easily even for someone rising above
The usual, penetration simply takes more time
But he had to go, to explore, to keep his ear
To the ground, pulses and heartbeats
Talk to the artists, they all know the artsy
Speak with the gallery owners and patrons
They know where the talent is rising
They can smell the money hidden within
Wandering the small exhibition, Malinov
Peered into the past, casting his eye
Over the long litany of influences
Borne of old friends who struggled and starved
A trip down memory lane, writ new in styles
Arising in new worlds of futures past
He trades words and coffee for the clue
He sought; everyone was abuzz with ballet
A show, not on the calendar, until now
Was showcasing international talents
And a relatively unknown local girl
Risen suddenly, in the last six month
To fame, not a girl, a grown woman
Well past the age when stars are born
You simply had to see her to believe her

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Silver – stanza 21

Tasha found him, petted him, brought him home
Gave him a saucer of proverbial cream
Turned him into her collared pet and pride
Showed him all across Europe and the Orient
Her hand fixed in the crook of his arm
And they dazzled the world with each step
She had been a dancer In her youth, enjoying
Now the long aftermath of universal acclaim
In fine gowns, furs, diamonds and gold
And a beautiful poet by her side, Tasha
Drank In experience gluttonously
While she taught Malinov a wealth
Of worldly secrets, she would bear
No questions, no attempt to burrow into
Her heart would be tolerated, no vows
Of love would issue forth nor be excused
For seventy-five years they travelled
The old world, seeing every sight, tasting
Every delicacy in every cuisine, learned
Arts and crafts in palaces and bamboo
Studied and learned and indulged
In vices and mischief beyond any measure
Delighting Tasha’s endless desire to laugh
Not merely mischievously but cruelly
When she found an opportunity to do justice
In some horrible, terrible ways
Then Malinov heard word of Silver, through
Unmistakable signs in a song she composed
Played on the piano of a Berlin bar

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Silver – stanza 20

Silver and Courlain took off one night, disappeared
Without a word, Silver barely batted an eye
For Malinov was merely a kindly old man
Who had recently lost his wife, and while
She would have preferred to tell him goodbye
Eloping with the young man she loved stole
Every thought of simple courtesy away, beside
She could send him a letter, tell him goodbye
And thank him for all his help, she was
Going to America and he would never know
As Courlain offered to post her goodbyes
And threw the letter promptly away
So Malinov found himself completely alone
He searched for Silver everywhere, not realizing
That Courlain existed and had covered every
Track of his consensual kidnapping of her
The woman he had loved for four hundred years
Decades spent, nearly a lifetime, looking
And listening for any clue to her whereabouts
Then he met Tasha and things made sense again
Tasha came from nowhere, Razor makes no
Claim to knowing origins, but most of them
The immortals have forgotten where and when
Their lives began; There is a sense that Silver
Is the first or ancient or older than
The rest, largely I gather, because she
Is the only immortal known who can
Create a new immortal as she did
With Malinov, Tasha too was very old

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