Poetry

Eric Delaviere

By: Nyse Vicente

I hadn’t seen it then
Eric Delaviere
The glinting eye, Phoebus light hanging upon the curve of your cheek, or the soft smile, lifted eyes, brows rose as we played in the forest
Child’s game
When our parents called out to us
But we were lost
Making dragons out of river nymphs

I hadn’t seen it then
When we were walking home cursing
At the blazers and ties our Headmaster made us wear
And at Mary who found it amusing
To scorn at us ‘The Italian and the French’
For we made ‘a funny, foreign pair’
‘Let her think what she wants’ you said, making your way to your door ‘For all I care, she can go to l’enfér’

I hadn’t seen it then
Sat at the school desk, reciting
Tales: of Dante’s Inferno and when Troy fell
Before we heard the bell knell and ran, writing
In our minds, tales of dragon, river nymphs and wizard’s spells
To tell in the woods, that fire in your grey eyes arising
As we ran further and further, believing in ‘l’exceptionnel’

I hadn’t seen it then
Barely sixteen: the torment in my breast
Pining, for a man who left me for other lips
There I felt, my head against your chest
The soft rhythm of your beating heart, one hand on my hip
As you turned, kissing my head
And spoke softly: ‘Je t’aime’ and I a fool! Scared
Walked away saying ‘You need to rest’

I hadn’t seen it then
When Paris called you to an académie
And we drove to the port, your eyes gleaming
My hand holding yours as I said
‘Etude bien la philosophie’
You laughed ruffling my head but in your heart you were already dreaming,
Of the life that lay ahead
‘Mon Eric. Mon, mon…ami’

I hadn’t seen it then
When you told me you fell
For a Julie? Or a Marie? Oh damn her name!
May she love you, and love you well.
Nor had I seen the shame
Of my own gradual, growing rapture when you claimed
She grow tired of you and sent you to hell
Let me see the man you became, and the grey eyes with its secret flames.

Home
We’re both returning home from university back to our little town
Where I shall again see you again
Eric Delaviere
The glinting eye, Phoebus light hanging upon the curve of your cheek, or the soft smile, lifted eyes, brows rose reminding us
Of childhood days
Playing in the forest
Child’s game
Telling tales of dragons and river nymphs

Eric! Mon ami, mon amour!
I see you, I see you now!

But do you see me anymore?

###

An emerging writer, Nyse Vicente is a modern languages student completing a degree in French and Russian. Her works are often inspired by her Sino-Indonesian roots, tales she collects when globetrotting around the world, or (more realistically) from the books she has to read for college assignments. Her work has been previously published at Potato Soup Journal and Anak Sastra Magazine.

Categories: Poetry

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