She looks askance at the lowly river, the stars reflected violently in its glassy image.
A dancing diamond row of spades, a thousand tiny heartbeats;
A braid.

A face gazes incessantly into the rage
of the blood red sky
A dirty blonde tendril of hair, a swollen red lip,
a kiss like
Little lips
Scattered as freckles against a snub nose.

She breathes in the lily white mist
and the roaming air and invincible stars
And for a moment she is cloaked, powerful, incredible, a vision:
A starry-eyed being, lit to life amongst
the beautiful things and the gentle humming
of nature’s drums.
I am a beauty, an artwork, a masterpiece
She sings in her bird-like thrill
Like the call of a wild swan.

Hesitant, passive, she dances on the icy tiptoes
of the meadow-green surface
And whispers:
I am mistress of this minute land;
My island, my treasure, my pleasure, my cake.

And so the starry woman blinks her flashing eyes,
Takes a breath, begins to dive
And searches amongst the weeds and the rotting green lake;
For those stars
That ripple into broken hearts like a pained ache.