For All The Sylvias
sometimes our Odysseus hearts
slip all those sailor knots
sometimes life, not appalling,
rather free – so free we can choose to fly
we have not always carried
flaming skulls of anger
sipped curdled clots of blood
we have not always harmonized
harsh heavy dogs of our dismay
gristled our own lovers
sometimes we have slipped clearly,
breathless and perfectly certain
beyond all mysterious constraint
sometimes we do not come back.
sapphiric no more
golden filigree no more
sun dress polka dots
tall G&T’s
heart shape sunglasses
our children pail and shovel the beach
their laughter, their chatter
muted by waves
grown more distant,
ever more distant
.
from Myths Of Multiplicity.by PD Lyons Erbacce-press, Liverpool UK.