This One is invisible
as the wind
Her signs wave sinuously
Her effects are seen
in the swaying limbs
the robin’s roost
balanced in the tabernacle
The one clear note
in the branches’ babel.
She is the glint
within the gem
I am a specter in Her smoke,
unclear, unheard,
love-lost, I am
the perfumer, the flavourist
She is the scent
of South Asian
spices and flowers aloft.
There is a vial in the machine,
enmeshed in sinew,
pure crystalline
set in a bone cage,
arc lights of obsidian
scratching the dark;
and though nothing is seen,
I know She is the where the breeze begins
in the hollows of a heart,
invisible as the wind.
🙂