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looking up from the sheet op paper from which she'd read the lines she attributed to me but which I hadn't written she wanted to know the meaning of the words she'd read and which I had not written but if I had that could not have made them any more meaningful she confessed herself confused she was imagining things said I and she protested that she could not be since I was imagining her and true enough I was making her up from scraps of memory relating to different persons at different times la amalgamata a creature from that book by Borges in my book confusion is a kind of fusion between what is imperfectly understood and what is wholly incomprehensible because I had loved all those who in part made up her constituent parts I loved all of her and wanted to make love to her in many and imaginative ways rather than write these lines and so I didn't (write these lines that is) |
| Levi Wagenmaker: born in 1944, a retired journalist, resident in the Netherlands. Other poems have been published on the web and in print magazines, in (among others, and most recently) Poems Niederngasse. email: salman@xs4all.nl. |
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