Hideous Love Read online

  the strongest, most brazen ship on the sea.”

  And he gives his paper boat a shove

  onto the river.

  I thrust my craft forward,

  “And I christen thee the Shelley,

  the master of tides, the builder of ships.”

  Our paper boats crest

  the river’s pooling,

  floating along the shore

  together.

  “Your construction

  withstands the waters.”

  Shelley smiles and lights

  a match. “But not fire.”

  He flames our cruising ships

  so they are pyres

  upon the water,

  brilliant and smoking

  upstream.

  Jane and I clap our hands.

  LOVE AFFAIR

  Summer 1814

  I shall wear my tartan

  dresses now

  for he is as dear to me

  as the Scottish countryside

  from whence the material came.

  I am enraptured

  in his high ideals

  bound up in clouds

  of his noble thoughts.

  He stares at my crown

  of red hair

  and I swear he admires

  not only the resemblance

  I bear to my mother’s portrait

  over the mantelpiece,

  but also the match of what

  lies beneath.

  He worships the best

  part of me,

  that which most men

  would discount,

  that which gives

  me greatest pride,

  my brain.

  We talk of politics

  and literature

  and he vows

  to be my new instructor.

  He is generous

  like none I have laid

  eyes upon.

  He gives his shoes

  to the poor when he has no coin.

  Like the monarch’s

  two wings

  I can match

  him wit for wit.

  We fit glove to hand,

  and he praises the finding

  of an intellectual equal.

  I am happier now

  than ever I have been,

  more joyous

  than when I am reading

  my favorite book.

  IS THERE ONLY ME?

  June 1814

  My feelings overtake me

  more swiftly than quicksand

  and I tend to forget

  that I alone do not grace

  Mr. Shelley’s life.

  His wife, Harriet, came before me

  when she was but my age

  and Shelley unburdened

  her from her life of confines

  as he promises to do for me.

  I may be many things,

  but I wish never to be a fool.

  AT MY MOTHER’S GRAVE

  June 26, 1814

  The stone reads

  Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin.

  I learned my alphabet

  under the shade of this willow,

  spelling out letter by letter

  the name Mother.

  Jane finally retreats

  like a sad pup

  and leaves Shelley and me alone.

  Shelley grasps my hand.

  “I have been on a long quest

  for love. You are a dear friend

  to me, but dearer more than that.”

  He pauses; his piercing blue eyes ignite.

  “I was an unhappy boy at Eton,

  bullied and misunderstood.

  I have a father who thinks

  me mad for my principles

  and at times would have liked

  to commit me to an asylum.

  I have been tempted and obsessed

  with magic, with chemical experiments,

  and with death,

  and shall likely always be.

  “But all of this has made me

  the man that I am—

  one now devoted to you.”

  I feel light-headed

  as though I

  hang upside down.

  I almost don’t want to ask,

  but I must know.

  “What of your wife, Harriet?”

  He tucks the hair

  behind my ear and whispers,

  “I am not sure that she

  is so devoted to me anymore.

  I can’t even be certain

  that the baby she carries is mine.”

  He sits up straight

  and adjusts his collar.

  “We are no longer married

  in mind nor spirit,

  nor love.

  We never were a true match.”

  While these words

  trickle from his lips

  he looks deflated,

  as if someone draws

  blood from his face.

  My mother wrote

  about the constraints

  of marriage and warned

  against its conventions

  and restrictions, for women especially.

  This love I feel

  for Shelley may come

  but once,

  and I wonder, Mother,

  what to do?

  I wrap my arms

  around his wiry frame

  and confess,

  “I am completely yours.”

  JANE

  Summer 1814

  My stepsister plays a role

  she seems to well like,

  the conduit for the love

  that Shelley and I have found.

  She is a river

  that brings Shelley and me together

  by chaperoning our time.

  Her generosity

  might be perplexing

  except that she

  loves a good romance novel,

  and in this affair

  she is like the paper

  upon which we

  write our story.

  She is necessary

  to us right now,

  and it seems

  Jane loves little more

  than to be needed.

  FATHER FIGURE

  July 6, 1814

  Father is outraged.

  The house quakes

  with anger

  as though we have

  upset a hive

  of frightened wasps.

  Shelley asks my father today

  to be with me

  and a resounding “No!”

  echoes through all chambers.

  Father must have

  forgotten his own

  principles of free love

  and his proclamations

  about the absurdity of marriage.

  He banishes Shelley

  from ever seeing me

  as Shelley is married to Harriet.

  Always more God

  than man,

  today Mr. Godwin decides

  to act as any ordinary

  father.

  I am perplexed.

  Stepmother must be at root.

  LAUDANUM

  July 1814

  Letters pass

  as I am trapped in the tower

  of our home and Shelley

  is forbidden to see me.

  Jane secures our secret notes,

  our wily messenger pigeon,

  while Fanny frets

  that we will be found out.

  My brothers, as usual, pay no mind

  to anything not concerning them.

  I miss the smell of Shelley,

  the earthy, mad look in his eyes.

  He sends me his book-length poem,

  Queen Mab, inscribes the book to me,

  renouncing Harriet again.

  “Love is free,

  to promise forever to love

  the same woman is not less absurd

  than to promise
to believe

  the same creed: such a vow,

  in both cases, excludes us

  from all enquiry.”

  Shelley finally cannot be held back.

  He dashes into the schoolroom

  of our Skinner Street home

  with a wild look.

  He holds out a bottle of laudanum

  and brandishes a small pistol.

  “Swallow this bottle,” he pleads,

  “and we shall be united in death.”

  The color drains from my face

  as though my love shoots

  a bullet into my heart.

  Tears plunge down my cheeks.

  “Please don’t harm yourself.

  Go home,” I beg.

  “I am eternally yours already.

  I pledge you fidelity forever

  if you will only see reason.”

  Shelley looks mystified

  as though he may have ingested

  the poison before arriving here.

  Still he tucks the pistol

  in his belt and, deflated,

  ambles to the door.

  He leaves the bottle of laudanum behind.

  WITHOUT ME

  July 1814

  I hear that my love

  takes an overdose

  of laudanum,

  and the doctor has been called.

  I hold tight the bottle

  Shelley left for me

  and wonder if I should,

  in some Shakespearean manner,

  swallow its contents as well.

  I learn Shelley will survive,

  but Jane and I

  are trapped,

  not allowed

  to breathe fresh air

  as though we are

  petty criminals.

  Fanny tries to cheer me

  with news of Shelley,

  and the porter of our

  little bookshop

  exchanges letters for us,

  but this will not suffice.

  I must see his fragile face,

  know for certain

  that he will thrive.

  Sleep is beyond me.

  Food holds no luster.

  One could drink my daily tears

  by the teacup.

  Father and Stepmother

  know nothing of love,

  know nothing of the pain

  it feels to have one’s limb

  separated from one’s body.

  This will not do.

  ESCAPE

  July 24, 1814

  Black bonnets strapped

  to our chins,

  silk traveling gowns

  corseting our ribs,

  Jane and I cat out

  into the dark morning.

  The air at four o’clock.

  is wet with heat.

  Our nerves charged

  and excited as a murder

  of crows after shotgun fire.

  Shelley’s velvet arm

  dangles over the carriage door.

  His left boot taps

  impatient, impatient, impatient,

  as a child

  awaiting our arrival,

  eager for our departure.

  He settles Jane

  like a delicate vase

  carefully into her chaise.

  I think I hear

  boots on the cobblestone,

  think I distinguish

  the faraway echo

  of my father’s voice,

  but it is only horse hooves.

  With one hoist into that carriage,

  my lover orphans me.

  He cloaks me in the cushion

  of his arms and we race

  away from Spinner Street

  on the bumpy road to Dover.

  A BOAT TO CALAIS

  July 1814

  Weak from carriage travel,

  I collapse, limp as wilted greens.

  Shelley was certain

  we would be pursued

  and hired out four horses

  to speed us along.

  I have to breathe fresh air

  and walk about

  every time the carriage stops

  to keep from vomiting.

  We cross the channel

  in a small fishing boat.

  The water begins calm

  as a sleeping dog

  but then churns up

  into a rage of storm.

  Our little boat tosses

  to and fro. We sit on the boat’s hull,

  my head upon Shelley’s quaking lap.

  He fears we will die

  on this little raft.

  Yet he is not sad,

  for in death we will unite

  never to be separated.

  The storm quells

  as we approach France.

  Dawn breaks in streams

  of orange and pink.

  Shelley believes

  this to be a good omen.

  His spirits lift

  like a fog dissipates.

  “A bright future lies before us,”

  he says.

  A BRIGHT FUTURE

  July 1814

  I see my future

  now not as something

  intangible like a dream,

  but like a boat

  meeting land

  after time spent at sea,

  a destination I will reach.

  Shelley holds my hand

  when the water

  splashes inside the boat

  and the sky troubles

  itself with a wicked storm.

  He sings to the birds of the air,

  charms even the wind

  with his words.

  He accompanies me,

  a noble partner,

  as I travel

  toward my life.

  RETRIEVING CLARA JANE

  July 29, 1814

  Our beyond sterling reputations

  tarnish

  by a single expedition

  it seems.

  The rumors abound

  about our elopement.

  Harriet, Shelley’s wife,

  goes so far as to say

  that my father

  sold me and Jane to Shelley

  for fifteen hundred pounds.

  Stepmother arrives in Calais

  with the intent to return to London

  with her daughter in tow.

  I am beyond saving,

  and besides, my father

  did not come after me.

  Stepmother sends a note bidding

  Jane come see her.

  Who knows what sorcery

  and threats she employs,

  but by night’s end

  she convinces her daughter

  to accompany her back to London.

  Jane wishes to see Shelley

  one last time

  and inform him of her plans.

  Why must Jane have counsel

  with Shelley alone, I wonder?

  Within the hour

  Jane decides to continue

  on our European adventure

  and leave behind her family.

  My elopement with Shelley

  seems to acquire an air

  of permanence now.

  And it seems that Jane

  may well be entangled

  in that arrangement.

  But do we really need her

  anymore?

  I already share

  Shelley with Harriet.

  Must I also share him

  with my stepsister?

  NEVER ENOUGH MONEY

  August 1814

  We embark on

  our European adventure,

  a sense of daring

  on the horizon.

  Shelley and I begin

  a joint journal of

  our travels.

  Jane, never wanting

  to miss out on anything

  we do, takes to her own penr />
  as well.

  We carriage to Paris,

  but dear Shelley

  did not plan well enough

  for this journey.

  Sadly we haven’t the funds

  we need to continue

  on to Switzerland directly

  and in the same manner.

  Paris is not the city

  I expected.

  The art lacks spirit

  and the gardens stand

  formal and dull

  as ladies of the court.

  But I elope with my dear love,

  pursuing my heart and mind,

  and break away from Stepmother

  and Father

  and all of their restrictions.

  When we haven’t a pound

  in our purse,

  Shelley asks his publisher

  to forward him money.

  But all he receives

  is a cold rebuke.

  I am not worried for

  “omnia vincit amor,”

  love conquers all.

  My Shelley sells

  his watch and chain

  and after much fuss

  obtains a loan

  for sixty pounds.

  Jane and I spend

  hours trapped together

  with nothing to do

  but stare at our bonnets

  and practice our French.

  I question again

  why she is even here.

  Shelley says if we are prudent

  we can travel

  the two hundred fifty miles

  by foot to Switzerland

  and afford it.

  Jane and Shelley

  leave me alone

  as I ail

  and purchase a donkey

  to carry our wares.

  Halfway to the next village

  it appears Jane made

  a poor choice of animal;

  the donkey buckles

  like a woodsman chopped off its legs.

  We trade the donkey

  along with some money

  for a mule. But then

  my Shelley sprains his ankle

  and must ride the mule.

  It must be quite

  an appearance

  to see Jane and me trudge

  behind in our silk traveling gowns,

  the flies at a constant swirl

  about our heads.

  Road travel is dirty

  as a beggar’s shoe,

  and the inns where we lodge

  are inhospitable

  to anything but rats.

  Still, I have my Shelley

  and my freedom

  and that is all

  I truly require.

  FREEDOM

  August 1814

  Unfettered,

  with a pen in my hand,

  I am as a colt

  released from her fence.

  I rush toward

  new scenery,

  devour the landscape

  because I have never

  witnessed, unbridled,

  such freedom before.

  I wish to record

  every detail,

  do not want to forget

  the breeze and smell

  of each new land

  we touch.

  For perhaps if I find

  the right words

  Father will understand

  why I left.

  TRAVELING TO SWITZERLAND

  August 1814

  After much heat and dirt,

  but little debate,

  we abandon the idea

  of walking to Switzerland