She passes. The
lines blur.
The last part comes by retrospectively,
a shocking ordeal.
Haunted with angels, her childhood
was an instrument of illusion,
a subsequent event.
There, in the
Fifties,
leaning against the past:
dark nights of piano duets.
Why did you disappear,
Mag?
Your blazing context was always in fashion.
The walls berserk?
Hopes heaped with secular implications?
A bagatelle of birds
mobbed by a serious wind?
I explore the disasters and decide.