Vanishing Point

Allene Nichols

She’s waiting there, just at the horizon
like some hackneyed ghost
from an old black and white movie

Her nightgown flows around her
and her moans float like lily pads
on a stagnant movie pond

If she turns her back, you must follow
because the compulsion is strong
and because you might love her

She might lead you back to that night
long ago, when you drowned in lullabies
and awoke to a world without shadows

She might lead you to the time
when you began to fight the seaweed
and refuse to let it pull you down

She might lead you straight to hell
and last time you were there
it was glorious and worth the price

Do you recognize her crooked smile,
the one you see each morning,
in the bathroom mirror?