Night Of The Meiga

NIGHT OF THE MEIGA

in the moonlit whirlpool
my green tresses swirl at the whim of the tides
the juice of mussels drips down my arms
as I lick their opal purple shells


after the incantation
the spell is cast in the goblet of orujo
the chorus of voices soars on Atlantic wind


bonfires sparkle on the sand
but I turn west to face eternity
dancing in the dark blue ether


perfumes of pine and eucalyptus
lift my body surrendered to the sky
I sway to the murmur of leaves
and the soft drumming of waves


then my mouth kisses the sea
the taste intoxicates me
and I plunge into fathoms of darkness


in the silence of the lair
his body soothes my ancient longing
until the tide recedes


reluctantly I return to my throne on Montebranco
and wrap the salty mist around my shoulders
tracing the memory of my lover's face
lazy fingers caress
a thousand stars in the sky


sweetly I succumb to dreaming
soon the sun will rise
and the grapes will glisten with morning dew


Maria Lemus—Finisterre, Galicia 2001