MacSweeney and the Mandrill – 2
- Roger Murphy
- Feb 21
- 1 min read
Inspired by TS Eliot's Sweeney among the Nightingales
The Mandrill turns around to show
The pink and blue across her hips
Her movement, meant to catch his eye,
Sinks his heart like a fleet of ships.
Outside, a cinder sea inspires
The moon, a waxen travertine,
To soft ignite and find a sheen
That lights the scene incarnadine.
Seas rush out away from shore
Signalling death and destruction
Normality is put on hold
As is the thought of his seduction
Unsteady on her heels she grabs
The tablecloth, slips and falls.
MacSweeney shows no interest
In what’s revealed as she slowly sprawls.
A waiter enters bearing fruit
The Mandrill proffers an idle grape.
Dismissive of her blandishments
MacSweeney dons his rainproof cape.
He leaves but leans in from outside,
Long doublet-sleeve in Titian blue,
Lingers at the window frame to show
He knows what is and isn’t true.
The owner talks to someone’s shadow
Half-heard in mumbled salutations
That hides the hidden trade essayed
Within the inn of assignations
Outside, Agamemnon’s strangled cry
Obliterates the nightingales’ melodious note
Rends the dark cerulean sky
As Clytemnestra cuts his throat.
