I refuse all her secrets,

whisper up a whirlpool

panic, peel apart

last echoes of my voice.

 

Intuition’s moon

has no pull on my tide

while I think

and think not, no way.

 

No more choices, stop

the choices

reckless and confused,

unloved sirens

rushing to the water’s edge

but never mind all them.

 

No-one finds me anyway,

still water’s urge to flow

cools this insane

battery of sorry dreams

that are mine, me

drifting

clean again.

 

“What I never did

is done.”