Maya Awakes (Homage to Ira Cohen)

(photo by Ira Cohen)

she rests under bronze smoke
half faces dazed in laudanum
gold-leaf butterfly wings unfurl
stopping dead against her brow

her legs are bathed in silk
arms fanned like Sarasvati
as shadows move across in circles
like faceless apparitions.

years seem frozen in this chamber
almost as if she turned to stone
the wisps of velvet and amber
stir the air just enough to wake her