WaxworkA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe
Waxworks of Nathaniel Trask Had
an entrance that was grim, Beneath
a couple of arches There
were gargoyles, looking in. He’d
only featured murderers In
the past, or so he said, But
now he wanted to branch on out, As
long as the model was dead. I
asked if he wanted celebrities, He
said they were overdone, ‘I’ll
leave celebs to Madam Tussaud’s, She’s
waxed them, every one, I’d
like to capture the spirit of youth Before
time takes its toll, To
reach inside, then draw it out…’ (He
was talking about the soul). Something
about the way he spoke Sent
a shiver along my spine, The
soul is such an intangible thing But
I’d like to hang on to mine, He
said he’d have to be there at the death With
a cauldron of hot wax, And
pounce, to capture that final breath Before
the body relaxed. ‘She’d
have to be sixteen years or so, Or
twenty years, at the top, I’d
like to capture that innocence Before
the woman shows up, For
life is such a corrupting force That
the signs show in the face, The
eyes reflect the depth of the soul And
the state of perfect grace.’ I’d
always thought him eccentric, now I
thought there was evil too, I
knew that he’d stop at nothing, just To
do what he wanted to. He
started visiting local schools Inviting
each class for free, To
go and look at his Waxworks While
he waived the usual fee. I
didn’t visit for quite some time I
was forced to work away, And
hardly gave it another thought ‘Til
he called me up that day, He
said, ‘I need you to come down here, I’ve
got myself in a fix, I
managed to capture the beauty, but The
soul is playing tricks!’ I
called that night when a silver Moon Was
barely up in the sky, Casting
its ghostly shadows on The
gargoyles, up on high, I
gently tapped and he let me in, The
place was cloaked in gloom, He
led me silently down the stairs Where
he worked in a secret room. In
there, was stood on a marble plinth The
form of a naked girl, ‘I
haven’t got round to clothe her yet, She’s
as sweet as a new-found pearl!’ I
must admit that she took my breath As
a perfect work of art, I
said, ‘You’ve really outdone yourself, Such
beauty gladdens my heart!’ ‘Now
what did you say about the soul, I
can only see the form?’ ‘I
had it covered, it got away When
I tried to keep it warm!’ I
looked up into the waxwork’s eyes And
I staggered back in fear, ‘My
God, what’s running on down her cheek? It
looks like a human tear!’ ‘The
soul is still in the wax, I think, I
must have made a mistake! That
breath I thought was her last, was not, I
thought she wasn’t awake.’ And
only then did the horror hit As
my mind began to whirl, ‘That
isn’t simply a waxwork, it’s A
living, breathing girl!’ The
eyes in the waxwork followed me As
I walked from side to side, They
seemed to say, ‘Will you rescue me?’ And
I swear, I could have cried. Nathaniel took a scalpel and I thought he would cut her throat, I
grabbed his arm and I dragged him down By
the long tails of his coat! ‘You’ve
got it wrong,’ Nathaniel cried As
I pinned him to the floor, ‘It’s
not a girl, it’s a waxwork with The
soul that escaped before!’ I
clawed away at the wax until It
fell, as an empty shell, For
that’s the truth about beauty… Just skin deep, then it fades as well!
Nathaniel
cried to see the mess
That
I’d made of his work of art,
‘I’d
managed to capture a spell,’ he said
And
now, you’ve torn it apart!’
The
eyes that I thought were real, lay seeping
Silicon
over the floor,
I
never go near a waxworks now,
Nathaniel
broke my jaw!
David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetReviews
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