Gabriel a. Levicky
Who are you my burned, shimmering steppes Goddess?
Perhaps Seljuk’s priestess
Holding a dagger that erases every illusionary age?
You’ve arrived like a confused, lost dove,
Carrying secret messages I wish I could devour
Resuscitate as a different mirror.
Yes, you are here.
Boiling my blind, unbearable fantasy.
You might remember me as a speck of dust.
There is no one able to replace you.
So, I am searching in the ruins to build you a temple,
My Goddess of Now.
Don’t throw these keys away yet…
NYC July 2012