Spins through its paces,
Sticking to rhythm,
Rhyme pattern, and theme,
Death, then, no longer
But life. Slightly strange,
But predictable
Until the last line
Promising to take
You Down where the Dream
Woman dwells. Hold on.
Who’s this Dream Woman?
She’s not Death. She’s not
The first-person voice
Of the Paradox.
And she’s not explained.
She’s the Dream Woman
Who lives below graves
In some underworld.
Hmm. Ereshkigal?
Persephone? No.
Your mind shuffles through
Whatever folklore
And mythology
Have settled in it,
So many dead leaves.
Oh. Wilkie Collins?
His haunting woman
Who comes to life?
Dunbar could have had
Collins in mind, but
This Dream Woman won’t
Likely to come to life.
Well, you could research,
But why? You have this
Perfect declension,
Rhymed anticlimax
In a minor key.
Leave Dream Woman be.
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