Ouroboros

We were just sitting around

listening to Shepherd Moons

by Enya when she drew you.

She stared, as if hypnotised;

sketched a face in the margin

of a local newspaper.

I wouldn’t know for almost

seventeen years it was you

she saw standing behind me.

Not just there, but at her flat,

too – the night I read tarot

for the damaged girl upstairs.

She drew the you you became

by about two. Drew you, then

left you for me to complete.