Monday, June 20, 2005


"The blood of my ancestors is thicker,
than the water you set down for me,
when I ask for it, nay command"

Love of mine not selfless, it demands presence
Theirs entices through the threads that weave your flesh
Not the weathered surfaces of Parian marble
The love glues boats that bob on ink-blue
And sometimes tilt in reverence to the storm

When the sea calls, women must be left behind,
To mull over all the glasses of water proferred,
Dots of nervous energy on their tongues that excite you
Yet, the sails must be raised, the buoys lifted the anchor secured
Blood of your ancestors that swells the planks,
washes all memory


Blogger the still dancer said...

Reads like an inversion of "Ulysses". good

8:52 AM  
Blogger thalassa_mikra said...

You are too generous, but thank you! I am actually reading Iliad at the moment.

8:00 PM  
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11:55 PM  
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