Apparitions and Incarnations

Possession’s a sort of sad business; the gods
can’t win an audience in their own skins, can neither
confuse themselves with their vessels nor forget

they must step off the stage to fulfill the seduction.
Abroad in London, I watched my brother play
Shelley wearing nothing but a bathrobe for two acts.

Off and on he’d open his robe and dance a little jig.
I remember one woman saying, “I had no idea
Shelley was so . . . well . . . that explains everything.”  end