The Final Dream of Sigmund Freud

Into unconsciousness 
Came the last few words of Faust, 
Part Two, 
As the Eternal Feminine 
Invited herself
Into a final Freudian
Night of interpretation: 

Rising and falling like a sea horse 
Of tranquility inside a flooded turret 
Atop her mansion,
She aspired and dipped 
Within the cylinder glass
(That some would brand a wet pedestal),
Like a living barometer of suspended relationships. 

Whether she held her breath 
Was not the point: 
Her long hair unstirred by the current, 
She was ready – if it came to that – 
To find a pocket of air 
Where she could turn breath to music, 
Coaxing lust to the edge of elegance. 


        -- Richard Siegmund
        21 September 2004