I N C A N T A T I O N S

 

Uncertainties of memory.

He is dead. Or a prisoner on the fourth planet of Betelgeuse. Or very sick, fever pulses. He is far away from everything he loves, besieged by emptiness, drowned in solitude.

 

Maybe he’s just a bit depressed.

 

He conjures up the horror of emptiness by giving birth to images drawn from his memory, the naked body of his  beloved, the radiant life-force of that body dancing in his memory, the smell of the ocean or the forest, the gesture she made that day and which he recalls, recalling it each time slightly differently, was it during the day, the night, memory is uncertain, sometimes vague, sometimes prolific with hallucinating details, always a bit a liar, maybe not. Maybe it makes up true memories.

 

Perhaps the incantation will work and there the sweetness in the summer  wind and the silk of naked breasts. will be present to him once more.

Virgil Brill