Mireille Astore

Dear Lina

Dear Lina, 

I came across your Appendice
last night 
when I was looking 
for a body 
I could read at bedtime.
But to have you dying
in that way
on the other side of the universe 
fragments began to tear away.

I had imagined you 
in that after-dying glow
not believing what you’d seen 
nor what you’d heard 
rising from ashes
to eat men like air.

And laws?
They came and they went 
on the breath of ghosts
visiting the city that had tempted you 
impotently 
with wishes designed for mortals.

A single encounter
that’s all it took 
to become afflicted 
by the nabrat in your voice.
I have been warned 
about this vigilance 
of capturing vibes I do not want
but nonetheless need
… desperately.

It might be said 
that eternal patience can burn 
on pyres not built for you
But why must gifts come undone
when you ask me to
sign away
a part of you

me?

Love,
Mireille

 

1. Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus” Collected Poems (London: Faber & Faber, 1981), 244.

2. A contemptuous inflection.

©Mireille Eid