Break me into chasm
then let the love pour in—
flower into deep well—
stem the umbilicus
of what you could say
you knew of me—
the privilege of living
inside your own head—
and me,
something made of sand,
a wink—
something of one
of many lives ago,
though how well
you knew me—
as did he—
how well they saw me—
and maybe no one did.
We were lovers
in a past life.
And now
I am obscure as
lost Atlantis, origin
of the fairy tale—
fragile
as gossamer and
the Holy Grail.