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