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the disappearing woman



on a deep forest path at a cross in the road

shaded by boughs of Spring

i wandered alone no aim in my mind

a treasure held close to my breast


just then She appeared, a fresh Spirit of Air

─alight on wings diaphanous

the laugh of wind so joyous─

and the red in my veins was aflare


She drew a full belly and blew on the embers

then sleeping so long in my chest

a Flame burned alive and our hands arrived

our feet said Goodbye to the Earth


we flew to a village past memory’s call

so friendly yet so strange as well

the people therein behaved as if kin

none different yet none the same


at night we dove in the Sea

where the eyes of my eyes could see

─the smell of her hair

the taste of her lips

a kiss on her peach speckled flesh─

giggling-tickling toes of evening ‘til rain turned to steam on my chest


the village erupted with the POW of ten trumpets

the Summer Fair had been called

there were hundreds of people from faraway places

choosing each minute from a case of clay faces

and my Spirit wore several at will


frightened, i fled to my Spirit’s bed

the treasure held close to my heart

She came to my side and from my hands pried

the Fruit i had carried so long

but when i confessed what burned in my breast

like smoke She at once disappeared

how can i hold what is not here?

She was gone, nowhere, disappeared

and Something else remained


a woman of frost stood before me

with kelp dangling down from her hair

the unspoken words, once caught in her tide,

now were held frozen inside


but my eyes were transfixed on the Fruit in her fist

– a gift once received from a girl i once leaved

– a lover of long ago but no,

the Cold does not understand the strength of its hand

which had driven a thumb through the skin of my Plum

and its juice trickled down to her chest

The acid of care cracked a door right there and i

leapt

through

the Air


inside her chest was a stair

so down i dove unaware

of what i would see or what i would hear

in the heart of the Disappeared


thirty-one steps from the light

was a room draped in veils of night

with memories of youth all around

a place where truth might be found


half-smoked cigs on the porch

and scrunchies from the cool girls at school

little toy faeries – diaphanous wings

and a picture of a girl and her dad

o how they held on

o how they held on


in the mid of the room wrapped up in a pall

was the most precious memory of all

forgotten

she sat inside a perfect glass box with curly hair and a curious smile

and a lilac held in her small hand


i woke with a start on the bed

and my Spirit of Air was there, too

was it a dream that had caused my ado?

was it all in my head?


so, i sang her the story of the Fruit and the Flame,

the Fair, and the smell of her hair

i told her of Cold, and the juice on her chest

and the thirty-one steps from the light

i said There are cigs on the porch

and a Girl living down in a box

But when i confessed what burned in my breast

like smoke She at once disappeared


on a deep forest path at a cross in the road

shaded by boughs of Winter

I wander alone, no aim in my mind

a memory held close to my breast

how can I hold what is not here?

She is gone, nowhere, disappeared

and Nothing more remains

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