Psyche Says
Psyche says
so much appears
to be missing here.
Psyche says I am tired
of these colors that remain
invisible to eyes,
of those others that fade
too quickly for words, of the words that linger
too long for breath.
Psyche says I live
in a chamber of cloud. And what did the someone say? Married
to a monster. They are never wrong, the oracles.
Abandoned to the mountains, fled to the mountains, the high peaks that would pierce
the horizon. The clouds ashen, etched into the pulse of sky. Here, where hunger knots. Call her
what you will. See her beside herself, and again, the hunger, fear, see her perched on the crag,
listening to what wind, swirl, sobbing, to what voices bearing
what tide....
When I close my eyes
I see the fractured lover
holding the fractured beloved,
their wings you call gossamer or green.
Psyche says
the wind as it moves
through the depths of the pines
and the movement beneath the wind.
Beside herself. See her perched on a twig that does not break, or see her turning
toward him, turned
to stone. That a mouth, that a moth
may emerge from the broken mouth,
to be followed by others, my sisters, and others, so that we need not despair
to die.
We are lunar, sing the moths,
mere reflections of light,
yet our wings that are eyes
beat air
and we continue to circle the fire.
- from Psyche Says (part one)