Hatfuls of Brass and Gold
“So, that was it, there it was, that was what she gave me, when I asked something of her, when I asked for something that would be beautiful, or worth something, and she poured down, right into my hat, handfuls and hatfuls of brass and gold.
That’s what the moon’s like, that’s what she’s like, that’s what she gives, nothing silver, no, nothing white, no, just hatfuls of brass and gold.
I kept the brass and gold in my hat, wandered back into the forest, twined vines about my body, ate wild flowers, did some sort of naked dance with smears of soil on my chest and belly. That’s what she wanted, I think, some dance, some ritualistic thanksgiving for hatfuls of brass and gold.
And what could I do with it, really? I suppose I could have bought things, spent the gold on necklaces and bread, rings and vegetables. But I didn’t, I kept the hatfuls of brass and gold.
Now, sometimes, when I’m in bed, all heavy with sleep, breathing soft as feathers into my pillow, and I look down, there it is, next to my bed, hatfuls of brass and gold.”
*Note: this poem uses a line from Richard Scott’s ‘Dancing Bear’ as it’s title
Suzannah V. Evans is a poet, editor, and critic. She has written for the TLS, The London Magazine, New Welsh Review, The North, and elsewhere, and she is Reviews Editor for The Compass. A selection of her poems was recently longlisted for the 2018 Ivan Juritz Prize for creative responses to modernism, and she is an AHRC-funded PhD researcher at Durham University.