Somewhere, Ireland

by Deidre Abrahamsson

The heavens spun madly
and my mind caught the rhythm
and took off in the opposite direction.
Soon they would collide
as we arrived in an empty starlit field.
I met the ground and then?
I don't really remember,
although I could guess.
It didn't matter anyway.
My spirit had already left my body,
floating, reaching for the moon.
He could do anything he wanted
and he did.
I am sure of that.
Although I don't really know.

We made it back on time
and me, with a run in my stockings.
Presentable enough.
Maybe a stray blade of grass or two
in my hair or streaks of dirt
on my face, if you looked
closely enough? But who would?

The party was over and we drove home.
I made it all the way without getting sick.
I just wanted to sleep, to get back
to that place, where my spirit would leave
my body again, so my mind would turn
off, so I wouldn't have to think.

The Author

A New Yorker living in Gothenburg, Sweden, Deirdre Abrahamsson writes everything from poetry to fiction to personal essay - when she is not helping organize World Championship and Olympic events. In addition to regularly contributing to Mosaic Minds, she has been published in Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul and SiglaMag.