Episode 3: At the Portal of Snake and Horse
I.
Portals aren’t doors
They open while you’re moving
Missed if you stop short
II.
Library lights low
I slide in just in time
Chairs already warm
III.
Names half-learned, half-held
Word collage, Tattered Writers
Edges finding shape
IV.
She writes:
— #1813 At the Portal of Snake and Horse —
At the portal where years trade breath,
one hand on the past, one on the reins,
two energies watching to see how I enter
Year of the Snake —
old skins loosen at the shoulder,
a silken nightdress sliding down, unfastened by choice
the body remembering its true outline
I step through with nothing clinging
Year of the Horse —
muscle and mercy moving together,
power that listens before it runs
the road answering to a steady hand
I ride as master, not passenger
Hands steady on the reins,
wind saying yes without pushing,
the future choosing me back
V.
When we circle the room
The word I offer is portal
Between years, still open
*****
Return to Poetry In Flagrante /poetry
Return to /home
(Season 2, Episode 3 from Midnight Fields, Poetic Screenplays from the Midnight Hours)