Leonora Carrington’s And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur
There were a cow-headed minotaura
a ghost dancing toward us.
The green moth-flower unfurling its leaf.
Magic realism and alchemy.
You and your pots of jam
boxes of black tea.
There’s no buttery, no Gothic hall,
no debutante balls.
Crystal orbs that pull at the tablecloth
gateway to the chthonic dreams.
Past your house in Mexico City,
the melons stuffed with larks
past crushed sweet almonds,
past the jacaranda you planted
where surrealist artists in exile.
These white Xoloitzcuintles.
These dog voices.
the asylum glass door
the asylum gurneys:
all those restrained with straps
all those locked wards
all orange blossom waters
Tell me about yourself.
You say: My body parts lie on the floor.
Some say: Madness!
You say: The war.
There to the left, is a kitchen,
there the horned goddess.
Her small hands, her cloven hooves.
You want vermillion, earth colours.
This poem was first published by Lantern Magazine.
Ilona Martonfi is a poet, editor, literary curator, and activist. Her latest poetry collections are entitled Salt Bride (Inanna, 2019) and The Tempest (Inanna, 2022). Writes in seven chapbooks, journals across North America and abroad. Curator of the Argo Bookshop Reading Series. Recipient of the Quebec Writers’ Federation 2010 Community Award. To follow her work, please visit her Facebook page.
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