"And so he sang of the love that is not so fearful of ending
that fear ends it       love that admits the flavor of pain
the pulling apart of ivy-tendrils ripped from a tree
love that lays itself in the grave of another body
sweetened by loss       as we lose ourselves in our lover’s arms
given completely over to pleasure        the dark flower
that opens petal by petal        unfolding us to the utmost
pitch of surrender        lost in the joy of self-forgetting"
-Craig Arnold, "Hymn to Persephone"


Post a Comment