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Midnight comes as it always does
in the whispering trees; half moon
bruised sky, the sound of soft rain
falling is your lover weeping, a child
crying for her mother in the dark
or a wild animal scratching at the window.
A woman’s scream shatters
the illusion of dream; you are not swimming
and she is not the Lady of the Lake, Water
Bearer, lover of Virgo. She is your curse,
witch, some other woman and you must
witness her drowning break your heart.
You cannot rescue her, nor she, you. She is
and is not you; but you do not know this
stranger who betrays the womb—part lamb,
part wolf in panther skin who stalks your sleep,
endless night, possessed and voracious
she is bleeding and this is her cycle
of forgetfulness in drink;
her remembrance torn to flesh, she will
devour and chew off her own leg to free
herself and beg forgiveness. And I ask you
what salvation is there in the ache of a phantom
limb, taste of iron, bitter salt. Tell me
tell me, tell me.
Poem © Mia
2004-2005. All rights reserved.
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