What’s my name? | Michael Dickel

A lovely read …

Meta/ Phor(e) /Play

The man sauntered up to the woman with a beard. He seemed familiar, not familial, not famous, just…familiar—a shadow that crossed her path on a distant-past sunny day.

He said her name.

No one knows her name, but her mother, and she doesn’t usually recognize her anymore.

When he said her name, he held her in his power. She knew he came from before. The other time. When life filled her with joy and dancing, when her lithe body figured in her pleasures, when her soul sought union with the sun and moon.

Clouds lifted from sea cliffs, and she saw him decades ago, his hair long, pulled back in a pony tail.

They made love on the beach, in the woods, rarely in bed.

Where have you been? She asked.

Lurking in your memory, he whispered. You seldom call me, though.

In her memory, she lurched away from…

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