Because you cannot choose well
By love’s lyre lapped and ladled
In complete disarray
she whispered at the loom.
Atom’s massive bite
Entwined like secrets buried in the tapestry
In and out and halved and wholed
Every night I come undone
Every day I am frankensteined
But just to know love was underneath
Love the reason why
She knew like we all know
When our beloved does walk the earth indeed
Or ski the sea, or even when he beds
We knew, and, her maidens, sighed.
Some boats only big enough for one
Other houses full of things no one does touch
To mount the trunk
To string the bow he wailed
There at night
We flew our fingers like it was our own freedom
Though we’d never been in love
Save Atthis, who craved and whined each day:
The weaving had been won!
The phoenix had been sowed with the mark of blood-red dye
Like the penny jar breaking on the curb of a storm
Atthis didn’t last
In our ranks
Whose job it was to hold the man down
Though he was away
Summon the threads bearing weight, and heave!
O, miserable, O, measured,
Find me here beyond her room tonight
I must go it alone
Beget threads undone
For my mistress, her joy; her home, her
Which, though, not well, is, indeed,
HANNAH KENT is a poet and translator raised in Key West, FL, with a love of ancient Greek poetry and sunshine. She translates the surreal, feminist work of contemporary Greek author and playwright Alexandra K* and works with Ancient Exchanges. Find her @pol_udora.