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Do not think of her
Unless you are prepared
To be driven to your limits,
To rush forth from yourself
Like a ritual bowl overflowing
With sacramental wine.

Do not summon her image
Unless you are ready to be blinded
To stand in the flash
of a center exploding,
yourself shattering into the landscape,
wavering bits of bark and water.

Do not speak her name
until you have said good-bye
to all your familiar trinkets-
your mirrors, your bracelets,
your childhood adorations-
From now on you are nothing,
a ghost sighing at the window,
a voice singing under water.

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