sybil 44

mating damselflies
on a river stone
their perfectly paired
brilliant blues
bending backwards
and arching up
twinned into
a thin blue heart

cicada waves
crawling up the heat &
turning the thick air
clouds take their time
drift across the hazy
blue july sky a
breeze like thread
nudges a sun-filled leaf
against the window

the sybil we see
spoke to me in brief
said the crossroads i
seek would be south
in the steam & heat
not nestled near
northern sea
in just weeks
i found i’m

north but
more south
than salty 44

she came to me
in a dream i dreamt
a few weeks ago
& pulled for me the
king of cups
3 of rods or 5 of them
we laughed
her eyes smoldering
with all the sight

i still miss the northern
trees the sea the moss
that sits in mounds not
dangles from trees

here in the north
reigns the king of wands
her page alongside
& i? embodying
joy of void & still
nesting in old maps

o sybil
where will wind
pull us now
your green
stone attends
to her every spell

& you, your green
bottles in my suitcase
corner hoard
few final drops
for what?

you are the page
of wands you always
have been, fire-breather,
a messenger arriving
coloring the white sands
with your own blood
with your skirts of soot
with your symbols smoke

& mirrors we are
we always have been
the sunlight from various
corners of the earth
the channel of light
that passes between us
we travel we sit we are never
not together because of it

when the mirror
cracked i opened
cleaved from past
reflections as deeply
as black mirror sits
in my skin

its splinters should
be icy, yet i see
still river water
two skating
bright shadows
flashing in

(anomaly & mille / poet the distance / from great falls to savannah)