The key

[Lady Byron]

In the limbo of my purse
I found a key
To a house
Which was not mine.

Strangely, the foreign key
Showed me the way
To the house.

It was a baroque house
With a wild garden
Full of nettles and degenerated roses.

I entered with the key.
The door shut itself behind me.
It was cold
And there was a smoldering smell.

There were broken mirrors
Everywhere
Reflecting
My broken personality.

In a small bedroom
Was my bedroom when I was little.
My fears
And the monster man behind the bed.

I saw my parents' bedroom.
The silk of the bed had faded.
In this bed,
They had been making love.

Then I saw my maidenhood room
Wide open on the fields
And on a smell of corn.

I was writing a purple letter
Of violets and orchids
To my first lover.

In one of the broken mirrors
I saw all my loves
In splinters.

I saw my present room
Lonely,
A dead love on the bed
And books everywhere.

I saw your shadow
Pacing thoughtfully
In the garden
And I cried.

In one other room
Full of velvet and pearls
I saw my death.

She was sitting on the bed,
Elegant and classy.
She told me about you.

Once again,
I looked in the garden.
You had a convolvulus
In your hand.

My death was patient and smiling,
Smoking an American cigarette.
Finally...I sat beside her.

February 6th 2007