My wish is that I never leave my island,
the only shore I recognise as home -
cradled in the paws of that most enigmatic siren,
immense blue sphinx whose dreams emerge as foam.
My words are jumbled cries of a somnambulist
whose nocturnes remain sundered from her days -
hallucinatory images of one possessed,
stumbling unseeing through a maze.
The deities I once revered are syllables of broken stone,
their splendours ash and cinders on my tongue.
The sea beneath transfigured skies transmogrifies, yet never lies,
and murmurs of blue oracles to come…
for Geraldine Domjahn
Blue Oracles
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105111900380
Свидетельство о публикации №105111900380
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