Game Enjambment is a reoccurring poetry series on games and gaming.
Will no one blare the Deku pipes, the five-belled horn?
We need a dirge. The Deku Butler comes to mourn
his son, that tragic tree husk, woodface topped with leaves,
those sorrowed, hollowed eyes. The Deku Butler grieves
alone.
He kneels before that shell, its soul torn out and carved
into a mask of transformation, wooden, starved
of closure, like that moment when the heart piece breaks
apart from whole. The prostrate Deku Butler aches
alone.
But we’ve each been the Deku Butler’s son. We’ve borne
his likeness, like we’ve taken other shapes. We’ve worn
his face, embodied him, a hapless, stunted shrub.
We came into this land reduced into a scrub,
alone.
What privilege to change appearances. We’ve worn
his face… Resound your Deku pipes, the five-belled horn
for him! This instrument shall not remain unblown
today. The Deku Butler does not grieve alone.
Read the rest of the Game Enjambment series.
Katherine Quevedo was born and raised just outside of Portland, Oregon, where she lives with her husband and two sons. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Rhysling Award, and her debut mini-chapbook, The Inca Weaver’s Tales, is forthcoming from Sword & Kettle Press. Her speculative fiction appears in various anthologies and magazines. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys playing old-school video games, watching movies, singing, belly dancing, and making spreadsheets. Find her at www.katherinequevedo.com.
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