I am the deep subterranean
Goddess of the Magenta Ray,
the glow in the musical dark
of unknown chords echoing
from hidden instruments.
A Lady of no name still known,
or not known yet, I come
to haunt your dreams as if
I were either enemy or lover —
perhaps they are the same.
But I am not the same as
anything ever encountered
in the white-hot distance
of your furthest imaginings,
or the up-close immediate now.
What do you name me? Dread
or longing? Beauty or sorrow?
Misty lies or luminous truth?
Useless to scream it into my kiss.
I swallow screams for dinner.
This mysterious being started speaking through me about two weeks ago, bit by bit, with days between the arrival of each verse and sometimes even between sections of verses. (Composing so slowly and intermittently is highly unusual for me.) Then Magaly's Weekly Scribblings #33 prompt at Poets and Storytellers United – to use a line of poetry by C. Sandlin: 'swallow screams for dinner' – seemed as if it belonged to this poem. And so it proved; it gave me my final seven lines! Thank you, Chrissa and Magaly.