she dances away when I awake

To Abstra, and to every real flesh-and-blood woman who merely haunted the periphery of the poet's life; content to inspire, but not fulfill.

she dances away when I awake

she breathes in moist and mystic murmurs
that steal my memory of oaths I've made
on other altars, to other deities, my offering
taken to the core of a softer decorum.

the bright eyes of a goddess,
the lips of a prophet,
the smooth skin of a feral beast,
merging into legends in soft sin and silk.

she touches me with hands and eyes
and words and sounds that cut still deeper,
deeper than any probe I send into her sphere,
seeking answers to the ancient riddles.

the smile of one who knows
the form of one who glows
the scent of one who chose
to be here with me tonight.

and she dances away when I awake,
for she is not, if ever, in my arms.
but she is in my heart
and in prophesied memory she dwells,
immortal.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.