September 21, 1990

Mabon landscape

I abandon Her, give her no respect, take advantage of
Her every generous impulse, rob her. Yet our reunion
is as ineffable as autumn.

Four days before balance, She denies loss, holds
rigid, refuses to yield to softness of passage. She
finds traverse across placid ice, treacherous in its

Elegance. Her fists clench cold, her feet numb —
uneasy in equilibrium. Too much pulses through me.
At right, path of frozen banks — impenetrable craggy regions

At left, an aqua lake sleeps — encircled by white mountains,
its watery body — elliptical. Its sky blanketed
in bullet grey clouds bearing menace.

How can the lake persist in blue if nothing’s clear?

Silhouettes sail crude boats across waves of crystal.
She senses steps of men before her on the path.
They have reached the edge of time, well-packed snow

Piles up above a small log cabin. It juts symmetrically —
no windows. How can I breathe? No opening there, no view.
To the left, a slide descends smoothly through the ice.

Shadows whistle as they glide before the plunge.
She hesitates, then swings Her right leg up above the ledge,
opens her palms, climbs to shelter.