Susana Soca

With lingering love she gazed at the

Colors of dusk.

It pleased her

To lose herself in the complex

Or in the cunous life to be found in was not the primal red but rather

That spun the fine thread of her destiny,

For the nicest distinctions and all

In waverings, ambiguities, delays.

Lacking the nerve to tread this

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

Abandoned her to the final tiger,

Fire.