© 2008 Bobbi Lurie
myth of narcissus
The world leans into me
as I bend to fasten my sandals.
My hair is loose
and the wind arrives.
There is a black flame inside me
when I see his face. There is a floating garden
and a well with a crank.
If only I could bring the water to my lips.
He sees me
and I lower my head.
So this is Maturity!
Death comes toward us in equal steps.
All work is copyrighted property of Bobbi Lurie.
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