Artemis

 In the star-lit forest, my Artemis,

To the frenzied sound of the satyr’s flute,

You strike me down with your bow,

Goldenrod growing from the blood

Of the fallen beast.

Your crown is of the finest herbs,

Perfume of roses,

The full moon in your eyes,

Thrush’s lilac song in your laugh.

Those birds whose flight prophecy,

Sweet goddess,

That all those nights spent in your soft embrace,

Our bodies, shining before our fire,

Were nothing but the delirium

Of a poor lost fool,

Doomed to die under the foreboding oaks

Of your unforgiving kingdom.

***

(Minneapolis, MN -- June, 2018)

As I was preparing myself for my move back to Ecuador, I got into the habit of waking up, running, going to my construction job, and reading Greek tragedies/epic poetry in bed beneath a giant ceiling fan. This, combined with my previous dive into Gothic Romance, resulted in a bunch of poems like this that take place in a dark forest with a mythological creature.