Spiderweb-shrouded, your looks betray
mountains. Aviary limbs twist to
mirrors and within minutes you emerge:
incantation of arcane Graces.
Fading ever closer, you
are as you become: a ringing of
bells – like song to taunt the ears of shipwrecked
sailors tied to masts lost in
pasts unknown. It won’t be long now,
girl, it won’t be long
until the gates of Hades
break their clasps and let
loose the seas, a pulse cool and sweet as
stone , as Acheron and Lethe, libations
stolen along river bank
encampments of the dead.
I forget - for you flutter forth, sparrow;
oblivious and obscene, your fragile beauty
spills forth across bar and crafted lamp-
light as if you held man’s archetypes in every
breath. Your music slides through skin
to cool bone, your image buried in
snow, seared into soul, as yet unknown.