MOLLY GAUDRY’S ORIGINAL:
HALLOWEEN SESTINA
A small pirate hops in and out of a hunchback-shaped shadow
on Stricker Street, beneath flickering gaslight lamps. A pumpkin
full of candy hangs from the pirate’s hand. Blood-hued leaves
fall to the ground and scatter in the evening breeze.
The hunchback saunters to atonal notes of a violin
coming from a haunted house where cobwebbed windows glow.
The hunchback’s pack is filled with Pabst; his eyes glow
in anticipation of groping Gertrude in the shadow
of a dark corner, of getting laid after the violin
stops. Inside, a headless horselessman holds a pumpkin
under an arm and says to the hunchback, “Pass that test?” “A breeze,”
laughs the hunchback, tossing the horselessman a beer before he leaves
to find Gertrude in the guise of Mother Earth, whose crown of leaves
took two days to make. Upstairs with cheerleaders, she basks in the glow
of dripping candles and popularity. He bumps her hip, and a breeze
comes through the window. Outside, he sees the small shadow
of his little brother’s pirate sword slash through the largest pumpkin
on the lawn, sees the sword then swoop the air, conducting the violin,
and when the music stops, the shadow rests, and the ghostly violin
tune lingers in the night. The hunchback watches the pirate kick leaves
beneath his boots. He sees the pirate tip his tricorn hat to a pumpkin-
shaped girl with a knife handle poking out of the black, sticky glow
of fake blood oozing down her chest. More music, and the shadow
of the pirate is pirated away, down Stricker Street, in the breeze
stirred up by the inaudible pouncing of his boots. In the soft breeze,
the hunchback serenades Mother Earth, mimes the playing of a violin
and delights in her laughter, darts from side to side as if he is shadow
boxing when she reaches behind him for a beer. She pouts, leaves
to go downstairs, where she rummages for a snack in the eerie glow
coming from the refreshments casket—maybe a large slice of pumpkin
pie will satisfy, or maybe pizza complemented with an ice-cold pumpkin
ale. The hunchback follows; Mother Earth’s drunk, and fucking her will be a breeze.
At the casket, she’s accosted by a tall vampire whose fangs glow
in the dark. The hunchback steps forward to defend her and hears the violin
more clearly than he did before. He sees Gertrude for Gertrude, and leaves
her to defend herself. He walks out of the house, and its looming shadow
quickly disappears. He sees the pirate’s shadow, then the plastic pumpkin
beneath the blood-hued leaves that dangle in the evening breeze,
and in the glow of gaslights lamps, he grips his brother like a precious violin.
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THE REMIX:
THIS SONG GERTRUDE BECOMES
Where cobwebbed windows glow amidst gaslight lamps, flickering. Strange clothes, the blood-hued ground, the atonal evening breeze. His throat and loins; his eyes bleary and lustful; his Gertrude, lost in the shadows, a dark corner—a violin moan, a breeze, the smallest shadow blown. When the music stops, the shadow rests, in the breeze, the sticky glow.
He is shadow, an eerie glow, a breeze. Gertrude is Gertrude, —Gertrude is looming, blood-hued in the evening breeze. She is ever the glow of gaslight. His eyes glow, until, from the small of the shadow, she is here. He grips her like a precious violin—
Her chest, her laughter, the song she becomes—
Remixer’s process: I did two very different mixes of “Halloween Sestina”, both with the same plan of removing the “Halloween” and “sestina” while retaining an emphasis on repetitions and “spooky” atmosphere. With this mix, more than the other one, I also wanted to remove as much of a narrative (for whatever reason narrative seems almost as inherent to the sestina form as the length or the repetitions) as possible. The last change I made was to put the piece into prose form and this involved a little smoothing of the language, although not so much, and breaking the text into the three paragraphs you now see.