the tragedy of Orpheus, as told by Eurydice
prose-poetry
I heard his lyre and his tongue before I first saw him,
convinced the God Apollo wandered in my home
looking for his next love to break
instead, there he was, as beautiful as his voice
he sang for me,
and love sounded like ambrosia
golden and immortal
never meant to be in such mortal hands
in mortal throats singing sweeter than the Gods
he sang for me,
Apollo’s lyre singing to him
heaven,
heaven as in we are bound
by Hera’s grace, by her thread of divinity
heaven,
his melody tuned all to me.
heaven.
the Fates were displeased with me, or with him
what is the greater grief, to be lost or left?
he slithered in my haven
my last breaths, poison in me and my spirit
in his arms, with his songs
I descend—
as souls must do
His grief and his love,
both told by his strings
both carried in the timbre of his throat
his grief and his love,
the world weeps
at his mercy
he comes to search me
he comes past the boatman
offering a song of the world above
crosses Cerberus
lulling him to peace
he kneels before
the queen of darkness, queen of spring
master of Hades’ heart
his voice stops
the underworld too
the phantoms in asphodel stop
the mediocrity of millenia broken
for a song’s length
the good souls of Elysium, where i wait
all still
wondering what this second heaven is
Sisyphus lets the boulder roll
Tantalus’s hands stop reaching his fruit
in Tartarus,
the monsters remembered when they were men
Persephone dreams of spring and girlhood
before three seeds of a pomegranate
Hades thinks of his Queen
I think of him
I think only of him
the world’s axis stops
it is day and night
dawn and dusk
it is suspended
held by the last note
trembling into the air
every heart is
filled with the grief
which was Orpheus
which was mine
Hades’ mercy, reversing death
the cycle of life, a period
into a semi-colon
if he could trust me
if he could look only ahead
into the light I head too
pale, phantom
his back
the lines I memorized
the softness I felt
I feel his urgency
to look
when the tale is told
it is said he looks back
because he hears me stumble
because he feels not my warmth
because he fears he’s tricked
because- the poets write
many versions
But
in every version he looks back
and in every version
when I fall back
when I lose him a second time,
when he loses me twice
I know
he looks back
because it’s all there is to
love someone
love someone to walk into the underworld
demand of death a life again
because only such love could have such audacity
because only such love is doomed
to always look back
to always look back
what could I do but laugh
knowing
such a love was ours
such a love was ours too short
he knows I forgive him
he knows this tale was always tragic
he knows I love him
enough to follow him anyways
to the end of this
supposed tragedy
he looks back
all I remember
is being loved twice
time passes differently here
with its rivers Gods swear on
I hum his songs
I hum our songs
I wait a third time
where eternity would be
mine to love him
he arrives with blood in his mouth
his tongue ripped
by the music
the world wept for
his mouth of blood
his stitched body
the hands
that puppet-ed
this world’s axis
my Orphues
my Orpheus
mine again
art done by me
Oh my godddddd
This is absolute movie material, pure and raw
This is the best thing since Hadestown! (Listen if you haven't)
Hmph.I’ve read it through now a 4th time and I guess, I am COMPLETELY jealous. how simple, exact, could not have shed any more weight anywhere that wouldn’t hurt it. It is still so vivid to me, word by word, line by line without fluffy descriptions or grandeur. How elegant for this wet little morning. I enjoyed this very much. 🌼edit - I’ve come back 3 days in a row 🙃🥹