SPRING 2013 (Issue 78)

Oliver de la Paz

Labyrinth 78

The boy in the labyrinth searches for a name. For the beast. He opens doors and peers into the archways--rooms with cool and constant colors. Frogs assault the cavern with their assertions. Here. Here. I am here. But these are not a name. Nothing but totems and wonder. And to the palpitations of frog song the boy dreams. Lovely faraway things like peonies idle in the boy's brain. Lobes of the flowers rise, explode, and decay with the throaty vowels. A name cleaves its heart into the pyrite of the cavern. Its red soul seers him when he blinks.  Nothing else pierces his dream. Nothing else except the canals of his inner ear doubling in its spiral. The sound of a name orphaned in the cold.