Eye twitch finger dance smirk blink screech

She played the viola for us today and she didn’t like it

Furrowed brow smiling mouth with discordant eyes

Her friend held the pages of music as she played

She took out her earring

We watched as the face played a melody different from the instrument’s

One note, long and powerful

Flinch squeeze eyebrows question and mouth answers

Another note, better

Eyebrows ask and mouth replies

The tuning was beautiful because she cared

The piece was beautiful because she knew we cared

We are trapped in moments and the music was tar, sticking us to our spots

We are trapped in moments and she was set aside

We are trapped in moments and we don’t mind

We are trapped in moments and she minds it all

As limb separates from body, the man

called Orpheus smiles. Blood drips on sand

and precious lyre stains--crimson drops of

Life--gladly forgotten--left behind as

his love once was in the too-bright depths of

Hades. Now tears are shed but not for dread.

Stagnant waters shift, and a soul drifts down.

There, Eurydice waits, ready to hear

the plucking of his berry-stained heartstrings.

#blankverse #greekmythology #poetry #orpheus

“I will kill the destroyer of him I

Loved”

Brave Achilles, untamed by your trials,

You grew solemn by the thought of a world

Without

The one to whom you pledged your spear and your

Life.

You could not rest, could never rest, but now,

You must seek peace. Pray the gods show their mercy,

For anyone that stands in your path must

Perish.

#blankverse #greekmythology #poetry #achilles

Dear Atalanta—so close to that life—

That life that you desired with all your being—

Torn from the path by the wicked curses—

Ruined by—not the fruit of one’s actions—

Ruined by the fruit of his inaction—

Your feet—bare, your hair—loose, your eyes…your eyes…

Torn from the path by the wicked curses—

So close to that life, but how could you know?...

His ravenous eyes have caused your ruin.

#blankverse #greekmythology #poetry

There are few constants in this world outside of those found in mathematics. One of these few is the state of an ice skating rink in Indiana’s midwinter. One can count on the teenage boy who just learned how to skate backwards and is willing to cut you off to prove it, the kid who fell and won’t get up despite a parent’s prodding, there are also the adults sitting and waiting in the stands for their kids living for them, and there will always be someone younger and more talented than you could wish to be.

Sometimes, there’s also me. Sometimes I’m flat on the ice, struggling to get back on my feet. Sometimes I’m goading a friend into a race. More often than not, I am ignorant. I am ignorant of the kids on the ice except when it is necessary for me to slip out of the way to avoid a collision. This tactic doesn’t always work, but one lives and one learns and one developes instincts.

Right now, my knees are a Pollock painting of reds and blacks and blues. They are constellations of broken skin and patches of deep, dark sky.

Most of all they hurt.

The ache extends to my thighs and carries on through my lower back to melt into my biceps.

The impressive bruises are the redeeming factor of skating. They remind me that I did something worth bruising. That I pushed myself beyond my regular limits and flourished.

4 AM wake up call,

glance up at the stars--

more than you knew existed--

now keep your eyes and head level,

The darkness still cloaks the landscape,

but towering trees and trembling tents make themselves known.

Finally, shift your eyes back up--

not all the way.

No shadow could shield this view.

The simple, jagged line framing the horizon.

This mass is your reason for waking,

and it will be the reason you sleep well tonight.

I saw the moon and thought to ask her for her hand.

She said something I couldn't understand, so I let her be.

I spoke to the mountain and thought I made her mine.

I left before she could tell me otherwise.

She might still be my one and only.

I gave a fish a ring

And told her to be careful

(It was very precious to me)

She swallowed it whole and swam away.

She was just a damn fish.

I met a man in the mountains but he didn't meet me.

He sang a song and faded away.

Shining instrument and shining voice, he strummed and spoke the tears from my eyes.

He whispered of love and longing and the hope of return.

Then cried of bayonets and cigarettes and the endless battle.

A smattering of words clung to me like stars for me to gaze.

And the ones I can't recall are too far above for me to see.

But every so often,

Just once in a while,

I can still hear him singing,

Darling,

Don't you cry for me.

For when this war is over,

I swear that I'll buy you a diamond ring.