Apparition

My mother met me in the clearing of

A verdant hill, and wearing weeds of love

She schooled me how to scribe these very lines.

She told me her mistrust of metric feet,

That every word must fall upon the beat

In order so the incantation shines.

Like Hecate to the sisters of the weird

Mum wasn’t, yet the purpose I had feared

Obscurely looms as vapor from red wines.

Innocuous she seemed in sunlight fair,

The beams reflected on her auburn hair,

But her design was one that undermines.

Therefore I concentrate with all my might

To rub this apparition from my sight.