Who is the found woman?
She is the sunset without limits
She is smiling in my dreams
She is the water goddess
She is dancing on a dime
She is at the back of midnight
She is in my shadow, always
She is the queen of black cats
She is the queen of wrong numbers
She is teaching the children of the revolution
She told me she existed, but I don’t believe her
She gave birth to her own dreams
She wants to take me to the top of the Empire state to read me her poems
She does not care for Paris
She whispers in white ash and red seashells
She is entirely capable of anything
She is a tramp, but that’s ok
She is not afraid to be an androgyne
She smells like red wine once a month
She’s a haunted house and all her windows are broken
She can only breathe underwater
She counts the hours in kisses
She whispers to the sea
She lives, breathes and sighs in the spaces between yes, no and always
She didn’t do that, but she might
She isn’t a mistress, but her reflection is
She makes the fishes sing in echoes
She is all the hope that we secretly need but do not dare to speak
She is a type of elemental fire, a smokeless, smouldering flame
She is a tightrope that I cling to when I go to sleep
She is an experiment in femininity
She eats fire that dances on the ceiling
She bleeds when her purity is misunderstood or maligned
She is the dancer that I aspire to be
She cannot tempt the tempters but she can heal the healers
Her eyes are on my dream mask
She is the dolphin who played the clown for the cloud-king
She is the mask that I can never remove
La Sirena 