Eurydice
poem
I have eaten of the tree
deep-rooted in the bones of hell, her tree
a thousand times, a thousand unremembered days
half-forgetting what I am –
There was another tree, which I lay under
and there you sang to me, I am certain of it
on certain days
when the thin-tongued bells are still;
Perhaps you have forgotten?
Now I recall your face
though I have drowned your voice in Lethe
more often than I should, it burns my ears;
Yours was a kind face, I think: they tell me
you are yet among the living, is it so?
I have tasted death
and found it sweeter than I thought
for when you left, the tree bent down its branches
pitying me, and I did eat.
Apple, pomegranate, still I
am yours
in dreaming and in death
half wishing it were not so.




This made me think of one of my favorite arias: "J'ai perdu mon Eurydice." Thank you!