> Hello Grasshopper,
                    I wasn´t back from the summer break when you posted this but I´m very glad to have caught it now. Ditto to what Catherine says, it´s marvellous. And whilst it´s clearly magical and can´t be reduced to a realistic explanation (at least, I don´t read it as symbolism) still there is a sense of a narrative that reflects on the conditions of real life. If there is one thing I would query it would be the `salty cracker´ in S2 which seems at odds to the cream, butter and curds that precede. Could some other delicious morsel be substituted or have I missed some special significance?



Best wishes,    Mike




> Lähettäjä: catherine JF <[log in to unmask]>
> Päiväys: 2004/10/08 pe PM 01:14:40 GMT+03:00
> Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> Aihe: Re: New sub : The Dancing Bride
> 
> This is stunning Grassy.  It has a feel of Angela Carter about it.  No comment other than I enjoyed the read immensely.
> 
> Best wishes
> 
> Catherine
>   ----- Original Message ----- 
>   From: grasshopper<mailto:[log in to unmask]> 
>   To: [log in to unmask]<mailto:[log in to unmask]> 
>   Sent: 02 September 2004 21:22
>   Subject: New sub : The Dancing Bride
> 
> 
> 
> 
>                      The Dancing Bride 
> 
> 
>   When I was six, and dainty-footed, my parents sold me 
>   to a pedlar, to pay for modern goods they craved:
>   a washing machine to counsel the neighbours, 
>   two televisions to till the garden, and a computer 
>   that pupped keys to all the doors in the world.
>   I turned and waved, but they slammed the gate.
> 
>   The pedlar put me on his tray to dance. I spun 
>   like maple seeds. I whirled into cream, into butter, 
>   my breasts were soft pale curds. I melted 
>   into a salty cracker and swallowed myself. 
>   On the seventh day I rose with clouds in my eyes
>   and sandalwood nipples. I knew my place
>   on the mountain. I grew like a princess pine.
> 
>   Resin sweetened at my core and I threaded calling birds
>   through my needles. The west wind carried me off and 
>   made me his wife. Lightning sheeted our bridal bed
>   and thunder rocked it seven times seven that night.
>   He leaves his feather sandals with me, so I can fly.
>   When he's abroad, I hear the earth whispering
>   through the wounds men make. When he returns 
>   I hear nothing but his words. Nothing save his words.
> 
>   I gathered the tears my mother never shed 
>   and gave them to my husband, my love. I poured them
>   into the cup of his hands. He rains them on the village
>   where I was born, and my small brothers and sisters run 
>   into the yard, and tilt their heads, quick-eyed as robins.
>   Beware of wolves I whisper to them, beware of wealth.
>   Perhaps they do not hear my words above the melody of water.
> 
>                                                (grasshopper)
>