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POETRY
Calling Sappho
From here, it seems strange to consider that
once upon a time you were modern.
Now, your facts
are mostly lost, gone with the wind
through an aeolian harp. I would crack
open the kernels of truth, if I could,
but it would be more fit
for your sweet lips
to tell your own tale, blowing through old sculpted woods
in elegant whispers
like Grecian vespers.
Did your heart really yearn
so much to fly toward early death?
Or is this just a wishful yarn
spoken in desperate breaths
to discourage harsher parents
from their judging and their nudging.
Two hearts that belong together should not be rent.
I will meet you in your garden of dreams.
We can talk, woman to woman,
understanding
will dance between us, for certain,
since time is not really what it might seem,
and in the end, everything stays the same.
Enlightened sisterhood
sounds pretty good
in this age of…
