Strange Landscape

by Tony Duvert

  butterflies the shape of spirals then angles opening out like fans all black then violet scattering rings vibrations of rings around my eyes which they dilate crowding now upon each other puzzles vibrating black squares hexagons but they don’t sway much anymore coming downward downward enlarging I am squashed beneath them like a photograph no thickness to me anymore intersecting there where ceiling meets the right angle of two walls a voracious existence sits squatting bat-like in its corner hypnotizes me sucks me into it then comes down in turn I’m certain they’ve already killed me they had this knife my mouth gaping blade stuck between two teeth then the handle was shaken manipulated like a crowbar to spread them apart loosen both one tooth chipped the other fell and the tip of my tongue filling in this new hole remains there until a cramp runs through it but if I take it out a cold solid solid coldness fills up my entire mouth I mustn’t say that they

  I left them back there some brown some blond some dirty some clean some happy some sad old papers I hadn’t torn up before leaving and each one of them will read that which lying down standing up living dead and I also doubtlessly in some way back there with them also very far away now unapproachable forever destroyed my own fault I realized I would never more chase after them I would even learn how to turn away my gaze avert my eyes so that they could remain insignificant to me seem no different from myself this one last hour I devote to them this hour in which to forget them forever

  to set in opposition to this sickroom chamber some ordinary thing like the heel of a foot a little finger and to observe it carefully for a very long time a single hand it doesn’t stir doesn’t reveal itself yet it contains all after all death in the nakedness of this moment

  not to describe it too cumbersome with his fingers making a fist thumb concealed within to understand how my own hand is different furrowed with tunnels devoured by the day and immutably double awaiting that other I can erase all that and even endure the image of those walls so lusterless paint a thin coating of beige barely covering this place they’ve chosen in which to keep protect me but I mustn’t say that

  like each tooth of some delicately tooled wheel that rotates with sudden jolts then stops irregular clockworkings that move in fits and starts and set me down here ounce by ounce of my flesh I shouldn’t have said that singular word I but it would be the final word four to five words each minute verbs the most difficult to handle of all or simply the heat on my temples and the terror that these words pronounced so rapidly would cause a sweat to flow more painful than any tears and extirpated from much further within

  ready now for whatever opens the door to the left of my bed but frightened unsure of what will follow it must be me myself entering for no one ever uses that door if not myself who else would enter to look down at me I know who is good for me I would not be harmful to me I no longer have any need to be

  or I will push away all risk if another is in this bed in my stead and if it is not I who enter I will then be a third who stands apart regarding this restful scene I will taste the blessings received and given I will avoid the sickness of forever losing and submitting two socks on the floor pearl gray no holes baby-sized the feet could be those of a dwarf I think it is indeed a dwarf but one of that rather mediocre species that grows taller as it gets older a hand gathered up the socks stuffing them into a laundry bag orange plastic with a thick cord around the opening that same hand picks up from a chair a dirty pair of briefs there’s a pile of clean underwear nearby standing up so tall there has to be some table or commode hiding beneath it

  slow turn of the head the sick child stares toward the left side of the room opposite the wall against which the bed then slow turn of the head to the right toward the foot of the bed the side where the visitor the movement of one hand beneath the sheet the hand climbing up and up and finally emerging free along the right side of the face fingers curl over the edge of the sheet lowering it a little to reveal pajama tops the color of bright green apples the frayed points of a collar

  sheet lowered further down pajama top rising over the coverlet revealing at last as many as three buttons left chest pocket a squirrel stitched over the heart green fir tree emblem of some club or maybe just a decoration sewed there to amuse a tiny boy

  his visitor moves about a bit but so silently his smock is

  his crepe rubber soles making sounds of sucking or of

  what one might call stealthy the discreetness of his maneuvering only adds to the anxiety of the sick child he doesn’t realize that what he’d like to hear are drums trumpets the various ovations that accompany the taking off of a balloon hurled very high I watch and the balloon it’s going to fall on top of me so I dart out of the way I’ll be the first to catch it same mechanical thoughts all these skulls thinking that one same thing at the same time but here crepe-soled shoes and only silence movements reduced to nothing but minute shift-ings of posture

  white breastbone of the child more important than his face insist he lift his chin he turns his head completely to one side the sternocleidomastoid muscle on the side of the neck stretches taut the skin is of some living substance but composed of what one might easily imagine to be vegetal protoplasm colorless giving as a whole the illusion of an iridescent whiteness it’s the same skin as that covering his face but conceals nothing flesh the texture of very fine rice paper

  this time the visitor breaks his usual irreproachable ritual he kneels down beside the bed and peers into the face of the sick child he doesn’t take his pulse doesn’t administer any medicine doesn’t even seem to concern himself with those fervid feverish eyes that watch him so closely instead he stares at the sick child his sick child and surrenders himself completely

  now the left hand of the little boy climbs in its turn beneath the sheet and comes to rest finally alongside the other so symmetrically

  fingernails cut too short thin phalanges the extreme cleanliness of these hands so useless now which still wait there clutching at the sheet

  the other could of course speak when the child grew delirious but everything tells him to remain silent his sick child would only answer then ask more and more questions

  lowering the sheet later to unbutton the pajama tops he slides them off the boy silently then puts on another pair beginning with the bottoms this pair he has selected for his child is lavender blue and the emblem on the heart pocket a fishing boat outlined in dark blue thread a half-circle representing the hull horizontal line above that the deck one vertical above that the mast and superimposed upon it a right triangle the lateen sail without rigging

  blanket flung back the visitor fixes the sheet then covers the child once more tucking him in tenderly

  he closes the curtains turns on a night light tiny red bulb then leaves taking with him the laundry sack

  the child must continue fasting he is allowed only water with sugar a glass of it on the table by his bed the chamber itself is perfectly square fifteen feet long wide high and all four walls have the same beige colored rubber soundproofing surface jagged rippling imitating the irregularities of weatherbeaten limestone mildewed scars

  there is no mirror

  games one can play while lying in bed sit waiting on the formica table top puzzles illustrating various fables of La Fontaine interlocking blocks with which to construct stylized animals stainless modeling clay there’s also a magic slate for writing down invisible messages a deck of cards for playing solitaire a connect-the-numbers-and-create-a-picture coloring book even a miniature chess set

  the child stares silently eyes all dark pupil at the night light minuscule red sphere plugged into a wall outlet just above the baseboard to the left of the door he lies on his side staring at that tiny steady flame and his eyes blink eyelids fluttering longer and longer intervals between those flutters than they cease moving altogether

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  awakening standing up I’m suddenly so hungry he nudges my el
bow shoves me roughly into some doorway How’d you like to make some bread? that’s my funny bone he nudged renudged tickled Bread dough you mean money?

  stretched out once more gurgling rumbling in my belly terrible thirst I must have accepted since I’m in some fucking jalopy the trip is endless stink of my breath whenever I breathe out since the windows are all shut tight I was so cold before my mouth exhales fetid bile he’s a fast worker already one hand down there between my thighs I move further away on the seat I thought you said it was only for photos? not looking at me concentrating on the road nervous he answers It is but I still have to take a look at the merchandise see what I’m paying for don’t I? no answer from me for that one Try to get a hard-on I’m giving you until we hit the next intersection

  red light my hand skimming the cloth of his trouser legs once more the prick’s there all right but a bit thin skittish not hard Open your fly he obeys I reach in feel around raw flesh crude cock quite long now and hard as well lumpish in fact very thick so much so it surprises me and I say

  how many do you have in there?

  what? inches?

  no you idiot cocks how many cocks?

  I jerked off the dude who’d been cruising the street for hours but only for a minute or so then he pushed me away and closed his raincoat a boy’s raincoat fine material for a boy fine and slender I went back to my little niche beneath the portico I spoke to him but careful to keep my distance just in case I’ll give you a good hand job sonny and if there’s any spunk left in it I’ll be glad to swallow it Go take a flying fuck faggot and blow it out your ass the young guy says he was blond curly locks one of those conceited types who pamper their pathetic pricks like it was a fucking holy relic or something

  upon waking I found that blanket some passer-by must have dropped on top of me while I was dozing moth-eaten torn in ten different places maybe one of those guys who live up that dead-end street plaid automobile blanket you can still make out the place where two ass cheeks wore it thin lift it to my face and I can see daylight shining through he was going to throw it in the garbage can but raising the lid noticed me and changed his mind he comes toward me kicks me in the balls Stand up when someone is good enough to give you something

  my cock the last remaining life in me part of me yet not all that close but at least I have it still I can use it hold it squeeze it

  useless now I don’t have the strength hunger supposedly makes cocks stand at attention but not mine right now she feels hears sees nothing funny about that I say she not he or it she he it shit his sex dangling there in the street he must have spent night after night walking along deserted streets he’s watching me hesitant he thinks maybe that calculates maybe

  cocksucker scram asshole go get your fucking rocks off with somebody else

  these battered old queens those snotty young shits the whole gamut from seven to seventy they’ve never had to bum around to see what grub they could hustle up money talks yet they still cast weirdo sidelong glances at yours truly for them it’s like unearthing some precious cock in a shit pail some hot chick’s gaping cunt some wild ass that can still take a crowbar up it lying there on top of a garbage can these uptight middle-class assholes always throw out the best stuff so I forced myself to go around sniffing their leftovers

  the car stops in front of a villa in the suburbs well-lighted street but in this winter weather no strollers he chains me castrates me eviscerates me then cuts me up in quarters salts assaults me I won’t go in there with him I never say yes to madmen

  I couldn’t have guessed all that I was too small and inexperienced he wanted me to tell him why I was lying there and what sort of slum I came from I answered I can’t tell you that and that’s when the torture session begins he was obviously too afraid to kill or even mutilate me he punches carves slaps twists drills makes an incision he distends disembowels dissects discolors disfigures dislocates disguises discomforts but always avoiding the irreparable and finally disenchanted disgusted he dismisses me abandoning me two or three hours later under some tree in the wide-open country so that’s I guess what happened anyway it most likely must have been me it happened to or else I did all that to him while thinking about him doing it to me or else he to me thinking about me or maybe me to myself dreaming that nightmare or nightmaring that dream because of this hard-packed earth beneath my butt so cold and this crazy plaid blanket fallen down from the sky during the night and then when the dawn comes up the porter will chase me from his portico in order to open his door wider to take out his garbage cans and this mania of his or of mine for taking photos capturing the scream the cry the painful pleasure forever photography studio black walls and the pretty little beggar boy reclining against an over-exposed background the child naked no body hair as yet a long way off to puberty but with a huge sex nevertheless and quite photogenic I bought this house myself fixed up this room blocked up the window painted over the whitewash with black enamel I recruited my model from among that trash pile of brats in one of the city’s slums I promised him piles and piles and gave him piles

  filth flying out from the shadows of one corner of the room then another onslaught of same something juicy slow ascension of bubbles juice of a shit-stained cock or one sticky and gangrenous I squeeze drain out my organ I let the pus piss shit clap flow all that juice swells it up so I press down hard make a fist squeezing out bubbles of brown butter sauce

  I’m not sick this death if death it is is a natural death and its wild exuberance a final corporeal product all stops out each cell each organ bubbles seethes secretes ejects and vomits up itself when they find me they can identify me as a pile of pulsating mud in a state of continuous eruption they always make a sharp turn on the sidewalk to avoid having to look at me I am this vast brown semicircle stretched out there more to be shunned than any dog’s ordure my porcelain blue eyes remain incorruptible though something white hard flies before them somebody has tossed me a scrap of soap to eat I reach out and grab it suck on it for it tastes just like a cock newly emerged from its bath and ecstatic dreaming I rub my nose against it my cheeks also shadows crossing over covering me I make a sign to each of them opening my mouth wide raising both feet in the air spreading my cheeks all four of them or else I yank out a tooth and hurl it up at them sucking the pus suppurating in that new cavity then spitting it out growing hysterical body shaking with laughter since I’m the only one who knows what is not rotting here and of course they all dash off at once never realizing that I shake off this beggar’s disguise every night at ten I put away all my props and I stand very erect it’s time to grab a bite now and here I am once more in all my young blondness with my flat belly my resilient muscles vigorous youth shining white set of teeth handsome young trade-y dude

  I stroll along the sidewalk cool superior air ivory colored yo-yo dangling from my right hand I manipulate it carelessly skillfully languidly I’m too farfuckingout even for myself some nights

  the grass no longer soft beneath me when I open my eyes it has left red tire tracks all over my bare skin and somebody seems to be messing around with one of my shoulders You really were lost to the world my little one weren’t you tell me what are you doing here sleeping on the cold ground like this where do you live child? it’s one of the nuns garbed all in gray thirty years old maybe even older ancient maybe forty her bicycle lies sprawled out by the road her voice drones on anonymous or is it in this case anunymous Why aren’t you in school child? and how did you get all these horrible cuts? turn around and look me in the face did you fall from somewhere? did you fall from this tree here? come my child don’t be frightened I won’t hurt you do I frighten you? no? good then! now first of all what’s your name?

  Yann

  what? speak a little louder I can’t hear you

  Yann

  Yann? you say your name’s Yann? that’s your name you say? Yann? then why my child did it take you this long to tell me? are you shy Yann? a little? yes? say yes sister remember always to say yes or no sister would you l
ike to come along with me now Yann? we can take care of you and then afterward we can go together to the town hall to find out whom you might belong to wouldn’t you like that Yann? yes? yes sister remember always to answer yes sister now come along then give me your hand Yann

  I can’t get up

  what’s that you say? you can’t get up? is that what you just said? why can’t you get up? oh there’s something oh I see something the matter with your leg? which leg Yann? let me see come on Yann don’t be shy with sister oh my goodness my poor little man it looks like a real fracture! and you wouldn’t have said anything about it to me if I hadn’t asked you oh my dear little Yann you mustn’t be like that you must tell sister everything but Yann how could you have done that? you climbed up a tree you say and then you fell? what tree? this tree here? show me where you fell then

  yes no ooooouch!

  oh dear you’re a big boy now and you’re not going to cry are you? yes? no Yann you’re too grown-up for that aren’t you Yann? yes? yes what? yes sister! there that’s better I’ll take you on my bike to the hospice right now and we’ll certainly cure whatever ails you that’s what we sisters are for you know

  here too

  what’s that? still another fracture? let me have a better look here? no? where then? take your hand away I can’t see oh Holy Virgin it’s not possible! someone has surely completely crippled this poor child! did they beat you? tell me Yann who beat you your mama and daddy? your little playmates? now Yann you must tell sister who did this horrible thing to you and you promise not to hide anything else from me isn’t that so Yann? is that all then? is there anything else you’d like to show sister?

  yes here

  a tooth? you have a toothache too? show me which one open wider no no it’s only the gum that’s a bit scratched your tooth itself is fine now tell me my child how long is it since you’ve been lying here?