another Orpheus poem
Amanda Vacharat

Yes, you wanted. Wanting

led you here, this muddy path

that leads away from

ghosts. But careful what you

set your heart on.

Hear her breathe?

Oxygen burns -- arson

behind you. Against the stones,

her feet burn too; uneven steps

count gods, thanks, your own

minuteness.

So much to face:

not wanting. Guideless

time, the bottomless chord

of contentment.

Her.

There's no mistake.

You think you'll fill

the she-shaped space with

shape desire gives.

You think of many things

that you can get for a song.

1996 © 2012