November 2011 - Comments Off

Eurydice

Julian Delacruz '14

All I know is I got inside,
but not the way a man gets inside.

I sank into the earth with no shovel
where I became dim and agreeable.

For once, the sound of the lyre did not strike,
and the sun couldn’t sink low enough to follow.

I was allowed, finally, to taste umbra.

And then I began to remember,
because I did not yet drink

from the river,
what kind of person you were.

A chaser of things, a lover of beautiful things.
You would run after as if losing me

meant losing the rest of your life.
So I sat in hell’s burning throat

wondering what love note would pool
at the back of your throat,

how you would reach the gate of hell,
how you would open the gate of hell

to sway the gods.
And how I would dread the embarrassing song

That you would sing. That you would actually sing me back

when you have the arms to cast off the lidded earth
for the impossible journey alone.

Published by: in Poetry, Volume 68

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