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The lord did away with the jury, 
on the sea’s edge with saltwater trust.
The townsfolk welcomed his rulings, 
for he claimed to be right and just.
He ruled that town with a fury, 
with the rod and an iron-shod fist.
And never a soul did grieve him, 
or deceive him. 
For every man believed him 
’till a rider came out of the mist.

She’d a bike black as soot for the devil, 
black gloves with holes in the seams;
A coat patched about with scrap metal, 
and a smile to hide her screams.
Her eyes were steady and level, 
her grip sure and strong as a drum.
The lights of the houses blinked out, 
then winked out.
A furtive figure slinked out,
while her engine idled at a thrum.

She strode straight up to the fence-line;
she whistled soft in the eve.
She stole through gardens and grass-lawns,
as quick as she could conceive.
She wove round reeds and the salt pines,
and never a mind for the law,
’Till she came upon that porch-light, 
warm torch light,
She scaled the wall in that scorched night,
and her lover at last she saw.

And who, and who should be waiting, 
who else but the salt-eyed Tess?
The town-lord’s only daughter, 
wry wit in a white linen dress.
She knew well the shape of his hating, 
but hadn’t the means yet to flee.
Tess drew up the curtain beside her, 
to hide her, 
But neither brave Tess nor the Rider
saw their shadow slip into the trees.

Come away, come away, said the Rider. 
Come away, and be my bride.
I can’t, said Tess in the moonlight, 
he’d kill you if e’er I tried.
Tess turned to tussle astride her, 
pressed a finger firm to her lips;
Asked will you be returning,
or are you finally learning?
I will remain here yearning
for my fate is not for such bliss.

I will come, and again, said her lover. 
I will come under stars, over sea.
Neither death nor danger nor dry-rot
could sever my love for thee.
Hush now and climb out the covers,
  for I hear a creak in the floor.
Tess shoved her love out the casement, 
rushed a quick effacement. 
She laid herself low in abasement,
as her father unlocked her room’s door. 

My lord, are you here for a reason? 
Her smile strung tight ’cross her skin.
Do I need one to see my own daughter?
He strode straight down to her sin.
Did you think I knew naught of your treason? 
He needed no answer to gloat;
His palm pressed down on her shoulder,
to hold her.
She was his as ever he’d told her,
with his thumb at the base of her throat.

 My lord, I know not what you speak of— 
I’ve been here all alone
Awaiting your presence beside me, 
in this chamber I call my home.
You sing so pretty, my meek dove, 
that I almost believe in your lies,
But a dear son of mine came to warn me 
you’d forsworn me 
It grieves me that now I must mourn thee,
and his fingers dug into her eyes.

You dare, you dare see another, 
when I’ve given you life and limb?
She screamed out shrill like the night-hawk; 
her vision grew gray and dim.
You’ll see no more of your lover; 
you’ll see no more of the world.
Her cheeks were stained with the salt-red, 
her voice fled.
He laid her limp form on the damp bed
and caressed a blood-soaked curl.

But what, but what of the rider? 
But what of her tumbling fall?
He’d set the town guard to assault her— 
they were spoiling for a brawl.
She took up a thorn-bush beside her; 
she brandished it out like an axe.
But all alone could not manage, 
and she vanished
Beneath limbs cold and so savage,
as they beat her in rye-fueled attacks.

The lord came out to the window, 
a black-metal gun in his hand.
He summoned the Rider before him; 
all bowed at his command.
And there by the sea as the wind blowed, 
where he’d loosed those men to their fun,
A shot rang out that clearing: 
Death, without a hearing. 
And above in the window appearing,
Tess slumped in the sill with a gun. 

Silence rang out against silence— 
not a soul on the ground dared breathe.
The lord fell slow like a mast-oak, 
the sword at his side in its sheath.
The shot shone sunlight on violence: 
men’s faces revealed in the dawn.
Each guard slunk away all a-shamefaced, 
his blame faced,
One tripped over roots in his lame haste
to flee from the corpse on the lawn.

Blind Tess did not witness the lord’s fall;
she heard a harsh thump from the ground.
She flew down the stairs from her window,
searched swift by touch and by sound.
Blind hands grasped around in the grass tall;
blind hands found his face with a hiss.
Drew his body away from her lover 
to discover:
Her bruised fingertips uncovered
a pulse beating quiet in a wrist.

Tess breathed in the sea and saltpeter; 
she bore her love on her back.
She stumbled through gardens and thorned-lawns, 
the pines, and the soft lilac.
She stumbled through stones and the æther, 
’till she fell straight down to her knees;
Her body at last had gave out, 
all played out—
She imagined a final grave shout:
her Rider, wailing please. 

She awoke to the rumble of motors, 
the whistle of wind round her neck,
Tied tight to the back of that black bike,
held fast by their blood and their sweat.
They drifted along where the boats were, 
laid the bike on the sand by the quay.
Their wounds were fast outpacing
any hope of death outracing;
They took each other, embracing,
and soft fell to the dark sea.

Though they vanished then from the sun’s sight, 
’tis known that they yet still live.
On the sea’s stream they ride ’neath the starlight 
and they love, but do not forgive.
On the highway they ride through the deep night, 
ensconced in a proud caress—
Twined into two on that shore-bike, 
with sure strikes,
They rain down their wrath on the warlike: 
The Rider and Salt-Eyed Tess.