“without compass, nor cane, nor lantern light / she leads us in the changing”

[larryhammer]

For Poetry Monday, just in time:


Hades' Pitch, Rita Dove

If I could just touch your ankle, he whispers, there
on the inside, above the bone—leans closer,
breath of lime and pepper—I know I could
make love to you. She considers
this, secretly thrilled, though she wasn’t quite
sure what he meant. He was good
with words, words that went straight to the liver.
Was she falling for him out of sheer boredom—
cooped up in this anything-but-humble dive, stone
gargoyles leering and brocade drapes licked with fire?
Her ankle burns where he described it. She sighs
just as her mother aboveground stumbles, is caught
by the fetlock—bereft in an instant—
while the Great Man drives home his desire.


---L.

Subject quote from Vespertine Autumn, Pamela Wyn Shannon.

Comments

[thawrecka]

Ooh, that's so good and so sharp.

[larryhammer]

Innit? I was planning another poem, but stumbled across this yesterday and had to share.

[cmcmck]

New to me!

Hope all's well with you and yours? We're now on partial lockdown so I feel a poetry reading spree coming on!

[larryhammer]

Mostly good. The kid is going stir crazy for lack of friends, but otherwise we're dealing.