By Mike O’Connell
helen is every woman
every man’s perfection
beauty in all of its forms
follows her through history
if you should kiss her vision
she will fade away
leaving you in ashes
blown about by whispers
swirling into devils of dust
embers spread about
the dry brush surrounding
waiting for glistening rain
to tumble from our time
and should a wildfire begin
it will not to go far
to reach the sea
hiss at the sun
taunt history with eternal
mystery she wields a
fuzzy beauty so perfect
it will not be defined
helen rests in the mirrors
of every woman and
hides behind the reflections
of all men even before
she may have been


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