Cloris and The Potion of LifeA Poem by Christopher LavertyI have a tale as strange as fantasy - of deadly passions and possessive rage, of gains in knowledge thrown in jeopardy - set in Messina - in the dawning age of voyages of bold discovery - of muskets, cannons, and the printed page - a small and charming city, yet a place where wild events imperiled once our race. Alexis was a keen, inquiring sort, a bachelor that studied medicine - and he it was, whom creatures - green and short - were spying on, in hopes by theft to win a potion that he worked on, which could thwart - if drank - disease and death. Full was his bin with failed, discarded formulas - and pale his skin, from labours yet of no avail. Another thing had turned his face this hue - distracting him, depriving him of rest, of appetite, of any joy he knew until that day - that day his interest was caught by her - by Cloris. Though it true they'd not exchanged a word - it would arrest his mind to recollect her - make it fraught with vain hopes - burden every waking thought. Burden it was to love with little hope, to struggle with a passion true and pure - of such a fierceness he could barely cope. Seen at a service - modest and demure in bearing, fair in feature - to elope with her he'd dreamt of nightly - but a cure he needed now - as soon his dreams were buried - upon discovering that she was married. Damon - distinguished in the cavalry, was this her husband that he envied much. At other Masses - since that day - he'd see them stand together - yet her face was such you would not think her happy. Carelessly she seemed to glance at him - which brought a touch of hope - but snatched soon was its gasping breath, by tidings of her sudden puzzling death. Plunged into bitter, inconsolable grief - he shut himself indoors, and would not eat nor sleep. Mortality - the callous thief had torn all joy from him. Almost complete was his formula now, with his belief - revitalised - that death he soon could cheat - death he could cheat. The very thought rekindled his hope for her - whom nature from him swindled. Galvanized he toiled all day and night, unresting in his hurried quest to find the secret to elixir - said to fight all pains and maladies of humankind. Patient those gnomes were watching - out of sight - their eagerness unshakable and blind. Finally - nearing midnight - he held up the finished formula inside a cup. Cloris was buried in her family tomb, for hours she'd lain inside it undisturbed. Found at the city's outskirts - it had room for many occupants. Although perturbed to think that he a body would exhume, his apprehensiveness he quickly curbed, and in the small hours of the next day he came and through the graveyard made his way. Her coffin found, slowly he opened it. To see her - motionless there - made him pause, made him - overwhelmed with feelings - sit. Untouched by time, lovely in death she was - as though she slept. Only his lantern lit the solemn scene around. Removing the gauze from off the vial he'd brought, he took the potion and held it to her lips - but then saw motion. He saw her move - before a drop she drank - open her eyes - as death she seemingly shook - and slowly rise. Startled - he quickly shrank. Had sleep for death in error been mistook? What spinner of our fates had he to thank to see her breathe again? Again to look on her - and feel his passion burn inside - which rumour only recently denied. Looking around the tomb she saw him there - and her surprise increased when recognition took hold. Frozen with fear the fated pair exchanged some glances. Was he an apparition? she thought, as round her shoulders fell her hair. He saw no signs of slight decomposition around her youthful, full and glowing features - as all the while looked on those impish creatures. They'd followed him unnoticed to her grave, scheming to seize the mixture when they could. These dwellers of the earth would such things crave to benefit themselves - and little understood what paths to sure destruction they might pave for those that dare to dabble. Hushed they stood - after they'd scurried through their native earth, where guarding goldmines is their task from birth. Unknown to him in secret she had felt a passion for him equal to his own. The serpent love within her daily dwelt, and many times she gave a stifled groan to see him, while her sighing heart would melt. Gladdened to find herself with him alone - she asked him who he was, and why he came; he then began to speak - though half in shame: 'Alexis is my name. Madam, excuse any presumption on my part - I meant not to alarm you. I had heard sad news of your untimely passing. Not content to think your lovely features I might lose forever - with this drink I came - intent in testing it on you. I find you though - alive - your hue unchanged; how is this so?' 'You may not know my husband' - then she said, 'My marriage was arranged to Damon. Him my parents chose - unhappy I was wed. A victim to his every mood and whim I sought escape from misery - which led to drinking herbs that freeze up every limb, bringing a lifeless sleep. So dead I seemed. Entombed - to live in happiness I dreamed.' They held each other, giving much expression to surging feelings long suppressed within. Alexis soon forgot his deep depression to think that his desire he seemed to win. He lay the potion down. To take possession - a gnome trod near - as soundless as a pin. Suddenly footsteps came around the door - and looking up - entwined - they Damon saw. 'What scene is this on which I make intrusion? I come to pay my last respects, and yet - find that the dead is living? An illusion perhaps? And who is this? My friend - we've met before, I think.', he said with grave expression. 'My wife you wish? Well - this you will regret.' He drew his sword and struck him in the chest; down fell Alexis, while his wound he pressed. As Damon left them, Cloris held her lover - bleeding and gasping, he could barely speak. His mortal injury she tried to cover - he pointed to the vial while growing weak. She understood his sense - but going over to bring this only cure - she gave a shriek. Belonging to a gnome - a tiny hand appeared, and snatched the mixture as it planned. Pursuing hastily the gnome outside, she wandered round the tranquil cemetery. Hearing the sound of giggles hushed and snide - she searched its paths and saw a sturdy tree, and there behind its trunk the creature spied - where many more had gathered round to see this healing drink. Upon a mound he held the mixture high, and wild with rapture yelled: 'This medicine', he said, 'will give us life eternal - with which we can build our empire - expand our goldmines - ease our daily strife. Its properties will mean we'll never tire, never be injured by the axe or knife, or accident of earthquake, flood or fire.' Cloris - in overhearing this - with dread was greatly filled, and interrupting said: 'I'm begging you - give me this liquid back; my friend within is injured - only this can save him from that unprovoked attack.' He stood beside the hole to an abyss - where lay their tunnels - of the blackest black - and took a sip - with eyes that told of bliss. Excited, all the gnomes watched on, as he laughed with malevolent, unruly glee. 'Now I'm a god of gods, a king of kings', he cried, while inching near the burrow's edge. 'Invincible, fearing naught, now I have wings - I'm like a bird upon a window ledge.' Not watching where he danced, looking at things not there - he raised the vial as if to pledge some oath to someone - as if under spell - then lost his footing - dropped the glass - and fell. Hearing his fading echo, Cloris saw the vessel and retrieved it from the ground. Some mixture it contained still. This she bore back to the mausoleum, where she found Alexis barely breathing. Trying to pour some potion in his mouth, a coughing sound she heard, then saw his still and bloodied lips moving. He woke - and took some further sips. Watching his wounds like magic disappear, Alexis stood and held her. Cloris told of what had happened then, of which to hear he took the glass and said: 'It may bring gold for some - but also dangers - which I fear. And so - I must destroy this stuff I hold. Come now, and while we can let's leave here fast.' So saying went they, hand in hand at last. © 2025 Christopher Laverty |
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Added on October 5, 2025 Last Updated on October 5, 2025 AuthorChristopher LavertyCornwall, England, United KingdomAboutI am a Cornish poet born in 1977 in Penzance. I have worked as a teacher and my hobbies include reading, music, films, walking and travelling. I have been published in Reach Poetry Magazine, Runcib.. more.. |
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