(this muse isn't completely finished yet    




It all seems colder
after sundown.
Nothing seems new, only redone,
restored to wear
out again.

Anne realizes for a moment
that it was at the point
between night and day,
between day and night,
she is in the shadows.
The lukewarm
nothing;
deterioration
of all emotion,
at least
that’s how she feels.

She begins to slip out of her clothes,
first she escapes a mock
turtleneck
in several
sparks of electric charge,
leaving the aroma of her
lavender perfume with
it until wash day..
a faded rumpled pair
of torn Lee jeans
one chipped four-hole button and
was about to lose that.
undid her bra straps and stood there
gaping into the mirror.


She studies her form,
tilts her head back,
guides her hand
along her throat and sighs..
The sun is going down.

She is in the shadows.

But at that moment she feels
five years old again, awakening
for a sip of water
walking to the kitchen
and invariably asking her mother,

“Mommy, it hurts so bad, why,
why does it hurt so
bad?"

“Why does what hurt,
darling”

“Why does it hurt my eyes?  
The light?”

Anne knew, standing there feeling
nothing but her
own warmth, that when you
lose a love
you adjust to it for
awhile, until one finds you again.
Sometimes it still hurts for
awhile
until you allow yourself to stand
long enough in
the light.