My Guru (& the intrusive face)
Exiled; an audience to tables of my inedibles—bright
cheeses, canapés green&black olives, distracted; I bump
into the doyen of words, guru to a literary soul: Emma.
Standing next to me on sacred ground. Breathlessly, I
listen to your wordless sight-filled breathing.
I would drop my fashion jacket (with sculptured peace
sign) into any muddy lino. Leaning my hand to balance
Your ephemeral thoughts, celebrate your words
embrace your magic views; Egyptian cats & flowered
children floating on depths of cultured rivers, on
godlike currents…….I drifted with you;
Dammed. A stranger’s sophist storm clouds.
Witch lit lantern of malevolent luminescence.
Mad wode worn face, warrior fierce
Sword swinging mercilessly into my unsorted company.
Bringing banishment: that crowbar tool.
I prised away, slunk off.
Didn’t say goodbye
Or fashionably….. Ciao