J’ai Dit

By Carina Zatarain

James brought the Harvest,

an acre of grain per hour, in fact,

inherited by his namesake–

Deering Harvester Company.

Because of this gift, his fortune,

he thought himself like Dionysus,

the statue deified at his threshold.

An American mythic,

his seasonal visits awakened

the estate of Vizcaya, always with

an artifact to add to his makeshift legend.

He brought lavish gifts from Ancient Rome,

Muslim embroidered carpets to wipe his feet,

church paintings to carve into,

the arm of Mary, the virgin, severed to display an organ.

He was the “god of things.”

He ruled but only one land–

A storage house with appropriated relics

accumulating like an Egyptian pharaoh’s death chamber,

for mummified furniture, wrapped like gauze,

their skeletal structure seen through thin layers and sunlight,

to preserve his illustrious reputation.

But, the god of the harvest, of epiphany and wine, was already taken.

Dionysus reminded him that.

This “god” was only man,

but, as the gods did, he dismembered his body,

threw these adopted pieces of himself into his Winter home,

made his mark, fashioned myth piece by piece,

until there was nothing left of the man,

but his objects and a phrase echoing in each room:

“I have spoken.”