My heart still skips
When she posts a picture
her eyes, hair, mouth,
engraved images in my brain,
refreshed, redrawn
like the cat she sketched
on that black board
in that school that day,
only it’s her face
recovered, and I’m transfixed
like ancient shepherds
each time Athena came,
why on earth did I try to stop them
back then, when she issued them
like a morning bulletin,
maybe even knowing
the reaction on my end.
Maybe I thought
I’d turn into a pillar of salt,
(or go blind as the nuns once said)
or lose my mind like the ancient sailors
who sailed passed
where the sirens sing,
she the most vivid siren of all,
while I bound myself
to the mast of my ship
stunned,
and now,
all these years later
it’s too late to untie myself
and let her song
consume me.
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