She came to me
because with bell book and candle
she was cast out, alone
with her wand of basil and stars.
She stroked my hand, wrapped me round
in words of a tongue I could not speak.
She stood naked before me
hairless and smooth as bone
an offering I had no use for
and I was sad for her wildness
that could find no home on this earth
except in the fretful dreams of
Image: Nereid, Berthold Nebel (1889 - 1964) Photo: Doug Coldwell, via Wikimedia Commons