Katy's Ninth Post

One week off, and I already forgot about this blogging thing. Whoops. I suppose my mind has been consumed by getting my first full draft together. What a frustrating project. I can't really see my work anymore. In lieu of discussing it, because I'm just burnt out on the whole thing, I present to you a poem I wrote. It's been awhile since I wrote poetry, but I rather desperately needed to do something new and different so that I could feel what it's like to create again.

EURYDICE

I cried on my wedding day

As much as with joy

As with the smoke in my eyes.

                                                            (There was so much we couldn't see.)

I danced on my wedding day

In the tall grasses, with the naiads around me

And the snakes at my heels.

I died on my wedding day.

In the shadows,

                                                            (And I was a shadow too)

My lover came,

But no true love.

He could have died for me.

He could have met me under the pomegranate trees.

But that is never the case.

                                                            (But that is never the case.

                                                            Why must we follow men to their homes,

                                                            Trailing behind sputtering torches,

                                                            When they are the mobile ones?

                                                            Why could you not come to me,

                                                                                    You coward.

                                                            Why did you make me believe I could

                                                            Live. With you. Again.)

I followed the torch when it wouldn't burn,

And I followed his bright form when I was a shade on the wall.

My only duty was to follow

And be happy for the trail laid out under my heels.

His duty was to trust that I was there,

But he looked back, with desire in his eyes, and I was gone again.

No. He was gone again.

No true love.

He could have died for me.