We made no bones about ourselves
during those séances in the stacks, the back
and forth of it. Hop a plane, I said, better yet
grab a Pegasus & get over here, where
I am up a tree over you, fugaciously &
with a hint of terror, chain me
to a rock, and get over here, strip me
from what abyss of memory I dragged
the phrase the oracle can only know, but
your beauty does seem to belong to a civilization
greater than my own, more effective
in accomplishing its goals. You fumbled
around and around in my pockets for
identification, but writing a book is just
like having a baby! Any interruption
of the gestational period is at a cost
to the child. Can I be a mother?
Will it be enough?