Sheree Mack, ‘Maman de l’Eau’
Before you notice the dead fish and rotting things; the drowned pet amongst the rusting cans, you will see her – a woman, and what a woman.
She will be amongst the shallow waters, washing her clothes, naked from the waist up with only her long hair as a means of covering.
Her long flowing skirts will skim the water’s edge. She will be singing a song in the sunlight, a song you recognise but cannot name.
You will be drawn towards her, as she lingers in this golden moment, washing and rubbing clothes, making suds on the surface of the water, all the time
singing her song, lost in her own world.
You imagine touching her, her long slender neck. Running your fingers down her spine squeezing her broad behind.
You imagine this, all the time you are moving closer, and all the time her song is running around your mind.
She bends to rinse and pull the clothes heavy with water. Snap and crack, rubbing and rinsing, pulling and wringing her hands a frenzy of activity.
Lost in her own world and her song, you will think that this is the moment, the right time to make your move, to claim this beautiful woman of the water:
she who is so beautiful that your tongue tingles in anticipation of making contact with her smooth coppery skin.
Within a crack and a splash, she will catch you around your throat.
Her green slitted eyes with hold you as her tongue hisses, burying deep into your ear, burrowing and tunnelling.
Now you will notice the dead fish, the rotting things around the dead pet, amongst the rusting cans, as you lie amongst them taking your last breath.