WATERMARK

This is a new game.
The rules have changed.
You choose, in general outline,
your character. Perhaps
last time you were the king
with the magic sword
and the unfaithful wife,
a hard and powerful life.

The time before, a dragon,
with a mouth full of fire.
This is a new game. You
will be a well-fed, insignificant
woman. The rules have changed.
When you enter the game, you
forget who you are. You forget
all that came before. You enter

the white light of this game
from amnesia’s darkness. This
is a new game. This game
has gone on without you.
Everything has changed. One
day, while washing a plate,
you may notice the thick blue
veins in your hands. You will

wonder, did I choose this? This
game with its incomprehensible
rules? Soap bubbles will pop
on the skin of your hands. You
will raise your head and look
out beyond the curtained
window, to the falcon in the tall
spruce. You will think, Yes.