Welcome back day

Welcome back to the country from wherever you've been.
I'm sure the sugar was even sweeter. Welcome back
says my voice tripled on the airport speakers until it
gives way to the other voices of people you still know.
Somewhere out on the plain the prince strings berries
on a pole and casts them at the sky as if he were fishing.
Maybe he'll bring down a bird. Maybe he's crying after airplanes.
Every little bit of text in his pocket is aching to break free.
Every green frog in the field says welcome, welcome, though they
don't know why and they don't know who. Not anymore. My voice
on the airport speakers is concerned for your security. My voice
underwater is calling, calling, into the deep and emptiest sea.
posted by Adam at 1:02 AM [edit]

This is the beginning of no other week, which is why the prince
saddles his horse and goes out by the river, where all the adjectives
hang limp from the reeds to defy description. In this place the prince
builds a fort for the arrival of the barbarians, but he builds it alone,
letting no peasant or laborer come help him. He builds it brightly,
barking, rolling the sun off his back. He is convinced that this is the week
they are coming, yet he alone shall see them as they sneak their undivided
shadows into the peace of his kingdom. The people will not know of them
until they are in their midst, conquering by sword and kiss. They will spring
crazy all over his kingdom's peaceful winter. This fort might just stop them,
built as it is with all the dead adjectives of a place that lives in the past.
The prince works until his hands can lift no more, and then he lies atop his fort
and sleeps. At that twilight hour, the fort standing intimidating and large, the guard
not yet set, the barbarians creep in on greying shadows and kiss the prince as they pass
into his fine kingdom, all the delight of havoc written large across their lips.
posted by Adam at 12:43 PM [edit]