Wanton Agnes

[Marc]

My glowing pink skin belies me
and I know that glint in your eye:
you're thinking we might go to bed?
Would you feel the same
if I was pea-pod green instead?

Before the bang and the ringing bells
that chimed us from cave into sunlight:
that's how I was - and my brother too.
Ah, yes, you know me now?
You've heard the gossiped news...

I'm Agnes, the green girl who lived:
I learned to forsake green beans
and to eat your garish food
then watch at the placid mill
as my skin took on your pig pink hue.

My homesick brother did the same
but his heart was always green,
constant as malachite,
green as the willows
quivering by the wolf pits;

green as loyalty, green with memory,
green as the bright watermeal
that hides newts and frogs
but couldn't conceal
his bloated pink corpse.

So take me to bed, perhaps make me your wife,
I'll love you as any pink person might.
But you must know that when I hear
the high bells of St Edmund's
tolling out bold and clear,

I'll want to take the cold hand
of my brother's colourless ghost
and walk where once a way appeared,
down by those lonely traps,
- that stranded us sun-struck and blinking, here.



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_children_of_Woolpit

[cynwulf]

I lke this version of the Woolpit incident, nicely written and utterly faithful to the original story. Liked the malachite, willows similes, and the longing, yearning touch to the end.
Regards, c.

[Marc]

Thanks Cynwulf, appreciated.

[David]

Fascinating story, Marc, and one that's completely new to me. Do you think it might work better in a more straightforwardly ballady metre? I enjoyed it as it is, but I thought a bit more consistency of rhythm - and of tone - might strengthen the effect. But maybe not.

Cheers

David

[Macavity]

My glowing pink skin belies me
and I know that glint in your eye:

So take me to bed, perhaps make me your wife,
I'll love you as any pink person might.

So this is why she is 'wanton'? Or are we to question the title? Perhaps 'wanton' in the sense, unlike her brother, she did not stay loyal to her colour?
I don't think the poem is clear on its moral viewpoint, what her motivations are for sleeping with the pinky person.

Would you feel the same
if I was pea-pod green instead?

I think that does ask a moral question.

Maybe I'm a little slow on this, but how can a colourless ghost be seen to hold a hand?

all the best

mac