New Decameron: Roz Kaveney

THE BALLAD OF THE SCAVENGER

By Roz Kaveney

The midwife shrieked and dropped her. Port wine stain

A stripe diagonal from temple past her cheek

Onto her neck. Her family then seek

Ways to remove it. Ways that cause her pain.

Caustics and knives. A priest who exorcises

Says it's the devil's mark, Satan's her Lord.

This costs leading her father to defraud

His clients. So he hangs at the assizes.

Her mother sees him drop. Falls to her knees

An apoplexy takes her then and there.

Girl weeps, hiding her face behind her hair.

Fearing her very life is a disease

Kills where she loves. Aunt says she's a disgrace

Locks in the pantry. Plans to put away.

Dark madhouse cell is what she hears them say.

Where no one has to see her ugly face.

Door left ajar. She runs. As was aunt's plan

Becomes a gutter urchin learns to beg

Soap draws convincing ulcers on her leg.

She saved her aunt a fortune when she ran

For madhouse doctors really don't come cheap.

She's clever learns to live without complaint

Accepts she's damned, her mark's a moral taint

Once she knows this, she giggles in her sleep

She will do such enormous things when grow.

For now with broken glass hamstrings the boy

Who runs things. He had kicked her. She'll destroy 

All who've annoyed her. Fantasises how.

Clever and vicious. Also tells them tales

The children gather round her in the street 

Fire charred wreck houses. Gradually her feet

Callus inch thick. She lets her nails

Grow harpy ragged long. When she is seen

Men shudder women shriek. Sometimes they swoon

They won forget her leer. And very soon

Admiring brats regard her as their queen

And do her bidding. Mob the older boy

Who mocks her. Leave in dirt to bleed

He will not walk again. Since she can read

They bring her pamphlets. 'God will soon destroy

This wicked city.' And it all comes true

Plague. Buboes in the groin burst pus and blood

Her minions start to die. She knows she should

Mourn them more than she does. Still, one or two

Survive. Enough. Empty streets. And daily carts

Trundle past full of corpses and of stink.

No need for vengeance she begins to think

If circumstance has stopped the rotten hearts

Of those who wronged me. Some doors still left wide

Death outpaced those who'd bar them. Search for bread

Find gold as well. She creeps among the dead

Her urchins follow. Shortly, they all died

They took contagion. Somehow she's immune

Shrugs carries on. Hears voice. 'Please come and find'

Bed ridden girl in Upper room. She's blind

And does not see the mark. Above the moon

Shines unseen as they talk.  It's not the same

When someone's helpless needs you. Wash her face

And wash her clean. The bedding's a disgrace

Find linen, change her. She is not to blame

For any of your wrongs. She giggles. There's a charm

In helpless beauty need. You quite forget

To be the monster. Do not notice yet

You simply love her. Gently stroke her arm

With talon point. It tickles. You both smile

Find scissors trim them and you wash your hair

Comb tangles . And outside the night's a glare.

Things happened while you rested here a while.

For cities burn far brighter than your love.

And hotter than your passion. Try to heave

Her out of bed and down the stairs. 'Don't leave'

She says and you will not. Thatch chars above

Smoulder and catches. Bedroom dark with smoke

You cannot see her either. But her hair 

Is soft. You choose to die with her stay there

Fates mercy is. You do not burn but choke.

Fortune's a bitch loads dice is not our friend

Slaps us at birth then tortures us some more

Gives rich her tit but pisses on the poor

May grant ironic kindness at our end.