Hérodiade

{Abstract} In which “The Whitby Ladies” being playful and gay, go by carriage to Leeds to attend the performance of Hérodiade at the “Grand Playhouse”. In which the ladies by craft, divine a bargain with a spright hereby named Baphomet to deal for the soul of the actress “Simone Lazarre” in exchange for the soul of the Archbishop of Canterbury “Edward White Benson” who is in attendance.

“Some whisper holy, holy, but they lie. Some cry rapture sweet Pontifex Maximus, but they do not know. I lie in the secret places, where the wolves eat their meat, and I wait for the calling of my Lord.” – DS

She burns her soul on the wood filled stage. With the walls of paper where the structure of Jerusalem weighs. The balance of acts, on a judgment scale, her breast displayed, as a wishing well. Her chocolate curls fall the room does sway and spins out of control far away. Those eyes so fair that watch above, in all their lust of lovers loved, in dresses made by magic care they watch Salome dance naked bare. Oh, night so quiet in summers dusk, all ladies present breathing touch. In marionette form, they move each thrust of naked hips that bring men’s lust. From Whitby town they made their way by carriage up the queen’s highway to sit as perched as royalty does, to move the characters, as they must. In Leeds Grand room, they play to test mortality’s cusp, a skin so soft for the Baptist bloody bust.

An act in parts, a shadow of life, the ballast moves from the deep of the night. The heat, the heat some barrister cries his eyes on the dancer and her glistening thighs. “Come all who hear, for none can see”, whispers one wicked witch in the gallery. Go on, go on reveal what will, a black bird is flying round the ceiling still. Can she never end says a barmaid dark? What I would not give a Pound to have her hips of art, as the dance for Hérodiade brings a bargain in the dark. Brings a trade before a part.

She burns her soul on the wood filled stage. With the veils breathing forms all around her, face. The room it breaths transposed only the silent can trace, with each witch watching the bargain take place. For the spright has promised to release one fair, to give the gift of trading while she dances there. An eye for an eye and a tooth or two, and such a supple body twisted as her soul comes through. Oh, the dark spirit watches right by the door for it has spotted a vessel what it traded for.

For Salome dances in the play for Leeds, before the royal bishop from Canterbury. His eyes they follow each miniscule move of a turning breast of the entrance to her womb. “Yes”, he’s heard to whisper, it is not enough for he wants to trap her dancing till she’s had enough, and the wicked things he has done before to dancing women to dancing whores. For he never would imagine that above his world in a gallery of witches there is a deal explored. For as the veils fall one by one and the lights grow dim and the dancer is done. The holy, holy Vicar looks confused to see a ghostly apparition with a silver tray, with no breath he will say. “This ends this way”, yes sir, “this end this way”! – 05.10.2018 – דָּנִיֵּאל

For me and the deals I have struck!