CONSPIRACY

He stood there at the entrance of my soul…
—Can I come in?
His sudden vision planted my first spring garden in me…
I may want to be there forever…

—I missed seeing you…
I want to breath the air near you…
—I love you…

A breach is open to the known that still infuses.

“Well… yes, okay!”

My personal repertoire of charming “ghosts” includes him…
Ghosts are people that I carry with me,
love and admire…
they disclose their lives to me…
In this moment, his moment,
he swallowed with one eye-stroke,
all the ghosts in me…

“Well… yes, okay!”

He braces for dismissal.

The fragility of beautiful things.

Last fall I was planning to be again in Seychelles,
collecting sea shells, and—

Oh, this is a self-styled conspiracy between my heart and my soul
that I cannot reverse nor retreat from…

He loves to inhabit me, to reinvent me…
Not to impose… to propose.

—I am made of a little girl’s play and laughter,
tender, soft, your voices carved in me,
one by one… running fast to my open arms in the meadows,
the Love.

—Take me or take them from me…

The strong strings on his bow aim straight at me.
He provoked an awe and excitement that I have been searching for…
and my soul conceived and gave birth to his offspring.

Now where… now where to…

Delightful confusion in my mind…
and I ring my delightful thought:

Lets play!

Sophia Fine — Inspired by a visit from Florence — February 2011