Lyrical, melodic

She spoke to me hypnotic

Words that she alone considered beautiful: her, are, sew

And I listened as intently as a river-washed pebble

Listens to water, which is to say I was

Deaf to all else

And I am transfixed

Knowing she will soon disemember.

I try to soak in her precision

Commit to memory her skin

Composed of points of light,

The way her hair, so parasitic

Wraps round her head to imitate

A vine-choked camphor laurel

She speaks to me words that are beautiful on their own: avarice, indigo, ammonia

And I have named her Sibylline

She moves to me

Hopelessly reckless like a child.