I am Not Eurydice

Sapere aude

The moon stretched across my skin

And the light

which spills

in a flood

Pouring

out

of the sun

in my chest –

There is such beauty

revealed

in a flash of light

Love is a gift that

not all men are worthy of

Louder, Louder, LOUDER

wide mouth like a scarlet flower

And dark eyes which render a face

uncommonly intelligent

To be born woman is to know

we must labor to be beautiful

to bear the Sistine Chapel

between our ears

down our torsos

Turn around, Orpheus,

the darkness calls

Louder, louder, louder

Memory transforms

lovers into poets

Melancholia swallows

men whole

like a pit of quicksand

that empties into

nothingness