Susana Soca

With lingering love she gazed at the dispersed

Colors of dusk. It pleased her utterly

To lose herself in the complex melody

Or in the cunous life to be found in verse.

lt was not the primal red but rather grays

That spun the fine thread of her destiny,

For the nicest distinctions and all spent

In waverings, ambiguities, delays.

Lacking the nerve to tread this treacherous

Labyrinth, she looked in on, whom without,

The shapes, the turbulence, the striving rout,

(Like the other lady of the looking glass.)

The gods that dwell too far away for prayer

Abandoned her to the final tiger, Fire.