My laughs are now
at the top of my throat
Our situation
now being what chokes me

My moans have become
breathing exercises
to calm down
my tears
now pools of long-term fear
rather than
temporary turmoil

My hands
now pick up pens and put
pain to paper
tears to trees
rather than reaching to yours
in ease

now
let go of me please

Eve,
Treasured girl,
Lost in sand or beneath turgid sea,
What if you were a prize for this rough life?
Somewhere to be found at a quests end?

Eve,
Stolen pearl,
A gem too precious for a boorish fool.

When all that befalls this man subsides,
Will you be my silver and gold?

Eve,
Lost treasure,
A pleasure through cowardice lost,

too long.

If everything is political
I suppose I’ll distance myself
from everything;

I’ll go back
to become rapt
with Eleusinian mystery,
and begin dancing among
pillars and fluted blocks
at the propylæa-
suitless and light.

The pattering of peoples steps
was the only music
I ever wanted to hear
anyways.