Having lined up her affairs,
Skin smooth in oil, preserved her
Ancient perfume resonates—
Disperses its silky depths, I dream
Of her incinerating baggage;
Replacing it with pockets.
Unanchored she leaves—
Sails the Mediterranean
Blue as newborn eyes, free as infancy
To float to the edge of the ocean &
Fall for an affection—the rite to
Dispose of unruly husbands.
A shadow hugs the water;
I don’t blame her, it is the current—
Under lies a daughter
Who will never speak of her
Or know the course to ascend—
Closure, her pockets full of stones.
