If we’d been more attentive to what myth had taught us,
no doubt we would have taken just a bit more care.
The winding pattern of the shelves would not have caught us
entangled in its convoluted snare.
Distracted as we were, we let the aisle’s crescent
direct us slyly back to where we started, and
around a curving shelf, found burning incandescent
amid the wicker wreckage, Marisand.
He shouted, “Stop!” and other words (though incoherent).
We panicked, turned and ran, and this time through the maze
avoided being trapped, as through the aisles we went
paid more attention to its lulling haze.
We gained the doorway and, beyond, the freedom waiting.
No future consequence, for now we had escaped!
We burst outside and ran—it was exhilarating—
but from this triumph sorrow would be shaped.
We ducked around the corner, quickly out of view,
and leaned against an alley wall to catch our breath.
If ever you are running, my advice to you?
Don’t pause. It might secure your freedom’s death.
“Seen!” I panted. “That connects us to the crime.
And then we ran, which makes our guilt look all the greater.
Now Marisand will have the two of us in mind
when they go looking for the perpetrator.”
In answer, Aeronwy just looked apologetic,
her manic, raging fury gone, she seemed diminished.
“Do you regret that Marisand is apoplectic?
We struck a blow the way you’ve always wished.”
“We’d better go,” I said, “before policemen come.
I know for sure if we are caught I won’t be pleased.”
She pushed up from the wall, I turned to follow on
but checked when from behind my arm was seized.