Pulse

She swallowed the drug with her whole heart.

She wanted to go that far, as far as she could stretch.

In her head she could be joined again in the imagination

of the demons who turned to archangels. She saw them

as flowers. She saw them as pliant dancing pulses

of energy, as light. She wanted to see the whole

scene again as it fractured into increments of life

and light, as it danced. It was a great dance.

She wanted to get on top of the hill where she could

look back at the town, where she could look toward

the sky. The sky was a screen for her mind to play

upon. She wanted to melt with the trees, with the

rocks, with the flesh of all the nameable world.

She loved words. She would name the world now.

She would name it again. Again. Name it words again.

She would embrace that hill and everything upon it.

 

She was coming down now. She had followed the deer to the

meadow. Her body ached. Her mind was still dancing.

It danced to her fear. She couldn’t still herself.

She fell down. If only she could sink into that soil.

It was getting dark. Had she stayed too long? Had

she avoided staying with him, with one thing? Did they

need her anyway? Did anyone really love her as she

was meant to be loved, as she saw herself out on the hill?

As she saw herself as the lover who could love all of them,

any of them. Let them come to see me, she said. Her head ached.

She thought of all the ways to come down. She checked her

watch. She missed the others. Her red scarf was torn.

She checked her face in the car mirror. Her eye makeup was

smudged. She cleaned her face. She put on her

fuchsia lipstick. She could face the world.