I NAME HER LYSSA

Image

 

When I touched her,

She thought I had come to murder her,

When I didn’t,

She thought I might be gay.

 

I discover that I am back there now,

Back in the place I thought I had bequeathed,

To whomsoever it was I didn’t care for at the time.

 

The past is never lost,

Just left behind,

My nemesis.

 

I reminisce,

Comparing maybe?

Like with like,

What do I see?

 

There is one difference now.

I am closer to skeletal than human,

Closer to death than birth.

 

Inside my head is sorcery,

Dormant once yet always lingering,

In gathering darkness,

Never holed up,

There to be found,

Just not pushing its point.

 

She set her quest to seek,

The magic,

Once unearthed,

I was healed.

 

Whereas the other,

The one who bruised first,

Severed later,

Relished in my wounds,

The victorious suffragette.

Far better,

Had it been her triumphant carnal potency,

Her suffocating lips,

My neck snapped between inner thighs,

Left me for dead,

I could have marvelled at that.

 

This one,

My only true lover,

Me hers,

Has never bruised or cut,

She loves swiftly and with fervour.

 

Not a long and lingering crucifixion,

Hers is invasion by stealth,

Always,

Deliciously savage.

 

A goddess of passionate rage,

I name this one Lyssa.

 

She redeemed me,

Salvaged me,

Travelled with me,

Hand in hand,

Toyed with the fragments,

Took a wild guess as to the best fit,

Set to work,

Took a backward step,

Considered her artistry,

Then, with a smile,

Complimented herself,

As is her want.

 

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6 thoughts on “I NAME HER LYSSA

  1. You could be talking about a woman here or possibly the sea I thought. ?
    for it seems to embrace a fair bit of nature.

    Poignant throughout, Mike, with carefully considered speech
    and construction. Wonderful.

    1. Thank you for reply. I wish I could write in metaphors yet this ‘poem’ (I don’t wrote many) is basically about the two women, one from a long time ago; the other my lovely wife of 28 years.

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