I never meant to mar your beautiful face
The wax fell in a landslide, a hot spring
The wind shrieked as you flew, then all stillness.
Now snow glistens over earth--icy, hardened tears
of gods showing their terror, their vengeance.
I do not go near candles anymore.
They say I have gone mad—no, only numb
My brothers tug at my arm, legs, and face
A statuette fixed in place, stunted, pale
In the old scenes, you are man. I, woman:
I bite the fruit, I open the box, you
go along, go on, pursuing the tides
Laughter that once was no longer echoes
through all the chambers, the silence of ghosts