Caliban. (Companion poem to "Miranda" and to "Prospero").

Hi Miranda,
I Caliban am not your servant,
That is Ferdinand,
That frail wimp of a log carrier
Lodged in my mother`s cave,
The shackles cutting his ankles.

He is just a pawn in your father`s game,
Another victim of White Man politics
Who must marry you
Just to keep the peace
Between two ageing brothers.

Meanwhile I shall continue to play the fool
In his snotty nosed presence,
That Ferdinand,
Bowing before him as he tends the dung fire
Before I sneak off to your bedroom.

We have been together for quite some years,
Miranda,
And I don`t see why we have to break up
Just because of an arranged marriage
Brokered by Prospero, your irate father,
That Boss Man with the straggling grey beard.

Mother Nature is far stronger than Politics,
She has never carried a health warning,
A codex of rules, Miranda,
And besides,
Your father is merely a Book Bound Magician,
He has to read up every spell before he castes it,
Wasting a boat load of candles.
My Egyptian mama could not read nor write
But she taught me the secrets of our magical island.

So remember Miranda, when you set out for Milan
I shall be sailing along under cover,
Stowed away with the luggage and cattle,
The books I will save from the library.
I shall teach you how to keep secrets,
How to climb out of windows at midnight
To meet up with me, and my messenger Ariel.
That brave new world you will enter
Cannot now be complete without me.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 13th. 2018.