The next time he asks her
she is floating languidly
in a pond.
Her hair moves
with the rushes,
her eyes murky
and muddy.
As he leans over,
her eyes suddenly clear.
He sees himself
reflected.
Smiling, her lips part.
Bending close, he almost hears
the answer she
whispers.
He lifts her out but
she dissolves into sand,
trickling into the pond
where she becomes a fish
that swims away
with a twitch of its tail;
can’t be caught.
He shuts his eyes.

When he opens them,
another thousand years
have come and gone.
Still he wonders,
What does she want?

– Tricia Marcella Cimera