You died too softly,
One hand on the book
The other on the glass.
Throwing the chair to the side,
Your blond hair thrashing,
All signs of how steeped over three days,
All signs of why buried in floating paper.
Your voice funneled back into your heart,
Your name forgotten,
Except by me,
I’ll write it on a burning leaf,
And sail it into the sky.
* Title from The Death of a Beautiful Woman: the Femme Fatale in the Spanish American “Modernista” Novel (thesis) by Nancy Sporta Sternbach.