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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