how you will recognize me

I will be the tall woman on the left,
the one
eating goat-yoghurt laced with honey,
licking it, marble-cold, from her fingertips.

I broke the famous mirror
we used to hold between us
but you will recognize me
by the faded red rose I clench between my teeth,
and my jazzy tambourine,
by my old jokes and my wild laughter,
and the vicious beast straining at my bracelet.

You will know me, surely,
by my scarlet dress dropped on the jagged rocks
like an opened bandage.

Watch for a naked woman setting fire
to flimsy, wooden bridges.