#copoftespu ii

mount of tespu dreams in cop
cop wakes in basement
cctv camera corner
pieces of broken wall along solid walls.
water pipes, tail end of ropes still knotted to hooks in the ceiling

single candle burning

then light at the eastern wall
a hole in the wall
a chair in the hole
a young, blue / purple corpse in chair
tender and upright
long hair washed and clean
slit around her throat neatly sewn and healed
lips swen shut.
head lolling on a broken neck.
supple blue breasts.

dead teen voice in head of cop

“she is not one of G’RgH/s.
she is of night society.”

cop sees island in moonless head
nothing on island man made
several fresh graves.

cop asks body, “what is night society?”
body in head of cop says nothing.



time cycles
dead ends
zero witnesses
victim of mother to psychiatric

time cycles
like a sickened ray
wearing out the power
blue bound body beauty
creeping under skin of partner
partner locked intime cycles
wasting away on blank pages
other missing teen not found
mother sent to psychiatric

time cycles, fucking with our heads.

the two special agents have gone cold case on the girls.
my urge to vomit finally stopped today, the way the clock in the room, stopped.

maybe the second vic has died.

my partner has been forced to take leave. psychiatry will be busy.
she hasn’t spoken to me since i asked about night society, but i know she is here,
silent, beheading, behind me, above me, on the bed beside me.
i cannot see her but i can feel her,
especially the coldness,
the lack of breath on my neck
the warmth of her wrath in my gut.

i feel an urge to create a narrative for her.
here, in the dark, cigarettes and rain.
I feel an urge to crown her queen
head lolling broken neck
tape wrap gagged
sand in throat tunnel
body, yearning for a resting place.
i think of the island. the burial place.
“The forests of tespu,”
her voice.
there then gone.
i’m searching blind
mind thrown out into nocturne
grasping in the dark
her voice

time cycles
keeping us from sleep.

we drive out there in the night, in the rain, to her fathers house.
she’s an ice cold presence, a wind not moving, lightning in the distance with no thunder
sitting within me, near the heart, a guide to our destinations. something tells me this is night society.
something tells me the sisters of tespu have woken.
we drive out in the rain, smoking cigarettes, moving in time cycles.





cop finally sleeps at the precinct.
cop dreams on the mountain of tespu.
in that dream, he is waking up at a precinct.
trope: abandoned fare, flickering ceiling lights, paperwork swirling about as unseen wind
interrogation door ajar, no lights inside
a sound: rough sand spilling on concrete
cop slowly pushes door open
heat in station, climbs to open desert
wind picks up
light comes on
woman in sack cloth, sitting at the table
hooded, wrinkled, sunburnt, toothless
she doesn’t use her mouth for speech
lips thin, cracked, moisture-less.

she projects a mental image./]]/\[]/
the cop sees:

a black scorpion
on the flat tummy
of a dead teenage girl

the mask of a clown on a fat man

a cathedral he had been in as a child
a cathedral that made a boy blind
sex in the chambers of the chief priest

an old man in a tux,
black top hat
grey/blue octopus on face

an old man who calls himself
‘Tespu of the :o.t.o.g.o.n.e:’

all the visions end.

the crone disappears.

on the dark grey table
a stark white, razor sharp fishbone
hair thin and curved and poisoned.

the sand on the floor disappears
cop wakes up in a precinct.


cop wakes up in precinct
into a live, active dream time of kid.
police procedural. tropes unravelling
like light bursting into space of sleep
partner in doorway yelling
‘we got a body.’
darkness within the doorway yelling, ‘go.’

drive. nothing but rain.
sky much older than before,
wrinkled by streaks of lightning
cigarette sucking partner, cold shit coffee, civi car, first exposition anxiety
loaded shotgun in the bonnet.

“is this the point in time when prose is born from poetry?”
voices in head of cop creates confusion.
voices in head of cop singing nursery rhymes not yet written
by child of cop
who will be given and
who will be taken
by force of the hands of predator.

cop tries to silence voices.
cop tries to close eyes.
cop sees greenish grey submergence force of water.
cop thinks of black scorpion on torso.
cop recalls teenage love book of pre-cop
cop recalls writing the story of his dead girl bride.
car appears to be stopping.
voice of partner saying, “we’re here.”


cop can smell the seed burning
at the back of his mind
rain like a thousand mini fingers prodding him
some pain as sharp as needles or tobacco burn
cop sees the flooded drains
greenish-grey force of water
cop sees the plastic cocoon getting hauled out by hydraulics
ambulances. squad cars, fire brigade. blue police tent with mouth open.

“we don’t have a gender yet.”

cop only hears: it’s the girl with the black scorpion on her stomach.
there is a smell of seed, burning.
down the slippery slope for a closer look.
cop hears his voice again.
‘there’s a certain blindness that follows light.’
cop studies the flooded drain. thinks of the hour it started raining.
plastic cocoon has been lifted out and set down before open police tent.
‘someone has dreamt in the shadow of tespu.’
cop imagines victim still alive in plastic as cars go by before the rain.
He turns to face his partner.
as a burnt flower blooms
in the thick of his mind.


the burnt garden grows

according to the shadow of tespu
voice of tespu in head of cop
anechoic chamber
voice of heart in tespu of cop
reverberation chamber
“she is not one of ours.”

there is a knowing
a trope in procedures:
theater operatics
mainstage morgue
green-blue haze light
studying the body –
ligature marks
brand of tape
needle points
hymen untorn
freshly inked scorpion in black
sting tail raised
hand tattooed
size of a one cent coin
directly above navel
other various points of references
trigger warnings
water in lungs
dry sand in mouth cavity.

then there’s telling the parents.

nights of no sleep
ants of tespu crawling in cop brain
an ecosystem of burnt insects
stale cigarette smoke
cold shit coffee

highway video footage nothing.
junior college student.
18 years old.
reported missing for 38 hours.
“she is not one of ours.”
then whose?
“copy cat.”

the shadow of tespu broods.
the cop broods.
isolation for days.
partner going nowhere.
nubile decay getting under skin.
the silence of black scorpions.
voice of partner droning
“she was reported missing with one other girl.”
the other not found.
the scorpion turns in the tide of burnt seaweed
the shadow of tespu moves.


#tespu # #elijhnmonet