I called out once to the vision
                                                           and she came to me.

And she was pale and sad, and her pupils
burned like martyrs at the stake.
Her mouth was like a black bird
with black wings.
                                         There were thorns in the long coils
of her hair. Her forehead was creased.
She was shaking.
                                         She asked me:
“Do you still love me?”

                                         I set my lips
against her lips of black;
I sank my eyes into her eyes of fire
and I ran my hands through the briars of her hair.
I brought her chest and mine together and laid
my forehead against hers.
                                                            I felt the cold
seeping into my heart. And the fire
into my eyes.
                          Then
my life went white as a lily.