Veranda

I am standing on the veranda behind my grandfather's house in Kentucky; it is huge, like a plantation house. There are rocking chairs scattered about, and small tables beside them. A short series of wooden steps lead to the yard. Everything is clean and uncluttered.

In the yard the sun is shining brightly over the acres of dark grass. There are only a few solitary trees, ancient oaks standing watch, their leaves rustling gently. There are large black stones in several places, flat and wide, rising slightly over the close-cropped grass. I am puzzled, as I don't remember seeing them before.

There are women on the veranda now, of varying ages, all dressed in simple white cotton dresses. They are sitting and reading, talking quietly among themselves, smiling, walking slowly and gracefully down the steps to the yard. I recognize them now - they are women I have known, past lovers, once-close friends, some I know from this life now. They seem to know me as well, though none speak to me.

I go to the yard and walk among them. They acknowledge my presence, but do not speak to me, just smile and then look away. I do not touch anyone, nor do I speak. As I near one of the flat stones, I see that it isn't a stone at all, but a huge, fat lizard of some kind, with pebbled skin like tiny onyx beads. Sometimes two of three are twined together, basking in the bright sunlight. I look across the yard - there are dozens of small clusters scattered about.

I realize the women are in danger, but I cannot speak. I bend to pick up a lizard; as I do, it turns to me and opens its red, red mouth in a silent hiss, blank eyes staring. I grasp it quickly and stand, holding it close to my chest, then stoop to take another. I walk to the shadow of a tree and drop them; they climb quickly into the branches. I look up, and there are hundreds more, all gazing into me.

When I walk back into the light, many of the women have vanished. As I watch, a girl I loved when I was five bends to examine a pool of blackness on the lawn. There is a flash of obsidian, the girl staggers back, then fades slowly from view. I scan the yard, and I see another woman dissolve into memory.

Motionless in the unbearably bright sun, despair fills my heart.

[July, 2001]