Found woman
In the breath of dreams
In my glass heart
Always there
In spring
She is my fluid rose
Growing from the seabed
Beneath my dreams
In spring
I can see you Sirena…
I can smell you on my tongue
She exists within my blinks
But never in my dreams
The lilac smile
Her path beyond the fist of thorns
Leading me
Beyond myself
To the chandeliers
Hanging like the gleam of childhood
From my shadow
I can taste you…
Between each rapid eye movement
And then in deeper sleep
She took the arm of a passer-by
The movement caught the beast’s eye
The door to the banqueting hall
Burst violently open
Returned to the shadowy world
Divided the sea and sky
Sending great waves
Instead of beauty
The box contained sleep
Serpents seem so precious to the gods
Hanging like the gleam of childhood
From my shadow
Part flesh
Part mirror
Her body sparkles with midnight seashells
I dreamt she spoke to statues
An arm of the sea stretched inland
And they became friends
The egg of the sea felt numb
She dances in collaged whispers
She swallows the sun
She kidnaps the last rays of hope
And emerges in kisses
Large as a pigeon’s egg
In the underwater world
The pearl shone like the moon
Cracking her whip above their heads
Climbing through the open window in her heart
And near the back of her reflection
She steals the night
Only to reclaim the box of delights she buried there in a dream
I found a ladder and thought it would it help me find her but…
She made her way back up the gloomy passage
She was already caught in the echo of her gleaming
Somewhere near the bridge of lost daydreams
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 