A villanelle
Who turned to mist and cried my name so clear,
then spun full circle, spun again her head
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir?
Afraid and frantic for my life was dear
to me, I ran and ran. I raced the dead
who turned to mist and cried my name so clear.
If I had known she flowed so thin-air near
myself, smoke-spitting; I’d have prayed instead
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir.
Her freezing smile made ice cubes tumble here
on ground. No mortal warmth. She's snow that spread
who turned to mist and cried my name so clear.
What could I do? My heart could hardly bear
its drum-play. In her side the knife was red
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir.
The knife now bled and stuck far in I fear
for I had killed the one I longed to wed.
Who turned to mist and cried my name so clear
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir?
Who turned to vapors? Said my name so clear,
then spun full circle, spun again, her head
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir?
Afraid most frantic for my life was dear
to me, I ran, ran. Yes, from her I fled
who turned to vapors, said my name so clear.
If I had known she flowed so mist-thin near
myself, smoke-spitting; I’d have prayed instead
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir.
Then she next smiled and ice cubes tumbled here
to ground from her own mouth. She’s ice-cold dead
who turned to vapors, said my name so clear.
What could I do? My heart could hardly bear
its drum-play. In her side the knife was red
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir.
The knife was red and stuck far in I fear
for I had killed the one I’d never wed.
Who turned to vapors? Said my name so clear
that night I viewed the ghost of Ellen Weir?
Glenn Bagshaw
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/villanelle-ellen-weir/
