My Woman

My Woman

i see my woman only in enchanted moments
devinely wrapped in clothes surreal
other-worldy, timeless

and she flirts with me
rounding figure eights about my crevices
and then she laughs at me and leaves me
itching for the ghost of future
mother’s fleeting comfort of the past

and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps
and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps

my woman comes to me in reams of self-
expression, she sings in me my throat full of light
we share a cigarette, our breath interlocking
in slow tendrils, then breaking

she slips into her robe, i slip into a muted peace
but im itching for the ghost of future
mother’s fleeting comfort of the past

and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps
and she floats in a passing breeze
on the eve of consciousness she creeps


-Bree 1997