“Newly fledged, her visible song, a marvel,
Made of perfect sound and exceeding passion,
Sweetly shapen, terrible, full of thunders,
Clothed with the wind's wings.”
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, “Sapphics”
When she smiles, parts of her begin to melt,
turn to jello; listening to Bach’s cello suites
each euphonious note is felt
with surprising heat
does this make her more or less complete
watching as the tarot cards are dealt
unsure if she accepts the whole conceit
of a single path to wholeness and health,
any other course a sure defeat
inside and beside herself confusion brews and swells
with surprising heat