Against Circe's Advice
       

In three consecutive dreams,
a naked woman approaches,
warns against staring into her eyes.
I am a siren, she confesses,
and her voice is like a pleasant song.
I tie myself to the bedpost
and look away, writhing in agony
against the tempting allure,
yet wake up refreshed.
Today on the 4 train I see her again,
this time in a black party dress
and luminescent pearls.
She smiles knowingly,
that same yearbook smile
that once won my adolescent heart.
She disappears in a Union Square crowd,
a sea of black umbrellas blocking the view.
Wet night twinkles with blurred streetlamps,
and taxis multiply like salmon battling upstream.
I am suddenly barefoot,
unable to remember my name,
to fill in the puzzle's blanks,
to figure the whispered clues.
I am afraid to close my eyes,
to see her again and surrender
all I ever was for the ancient magic
of her empty fickle promise.

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Copyright © 2021 Gary Glauber All rights reserved
from Rocky Landscape With Vagrants
Cyberwit.net
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission