part one.

Narcissus left his hometown with an
easy grin and boundless stride.  I loved him the way
birds flew — naturally, not without
effort, impossible to
stay.  He met the sea with an array of broken mirrors, all
assembled to his liking, to catch the light
of his storm-grey eyes.  I encountered those mirrors once, attempted to
touch them —
succeeded
bled myself dry, laughed, embraced them called them
my own.

But they were not.  In every
reflection of my face blinking in those shimmering knife-cut starry
shards, in the end
he owned them all.  He leaned over the table,
handed me a drink before scooping them placing them
softly into his stomach, running his fingers
through his hair
once golden; telling me stories, telling me
secrets while he ate the shards, while he ate himself —

Tell me what goes on in the deep, muddy
infinity of
night: he loved and hated himself.  Tell me
what happens in the morning, in
the delicate mesh
of not-quite-awake:

he loved and hated
me
as he loved and hated loneliness, as he loved
and hated
glory.

part two.

There are birds on my porch.  White.  Soft,
dead dreams at dawn.  I tried to give them to you — dreams
and hate.  Inextricable.  I want to tell you this, Ares: Today
I woke up,
pills like the devil, broke hair like a
sinner, trying to excaberate the crucifix from my throat like
nectar.  I wonder

Did you paint walls as a child?  Did you draw
eyes and lottery numbers, map out the
uncertainty of your future in fire?  Did you ever

think that we would be here, and you —

Question one: I don't want to choose.
Next —

There is snow on your eyelashes.  I've kissed
your silhouette in the dull thud of night,
cut my lips open waiting for you to wake.  Question two:
Why won't you?  Then

Ares, end the war before I
take it into my stomach hope that
it won't ring but make me catch
fire, I told you once I would die for you if
you kill me, Ares
And third:

Do you know who I am?

part three.

Poseidon, please be so kind as to
lend me a light.  The waters are dark here.
I've followed the sound, the scent, the break —
made myself at home, bought chaos tied
ribbons around my wrists
cried wolf,
cried.  Wait, please.  Turn your head —

Just like that.  A little to the left.  Acknowledge me.
Smile.  Smile like someone set off fireworks
in an open field, the noise so loud it rattles your
ribcage, pops in your
heart.  Smile like you
just pranked the neighbour, the one with the permanent
scowl and occasional stutter, smile like you just had
your first kiss.  And then, maybe we

I've been guilty.  Take this light.  Count the times
I've denied my worth.  Familiar territory, Poseidon?
It must be — the sea
moves in counter with the rhythm
of the moon, lawn, universe.  Count me,
you've placed me
into a recognizable algorithm surrounded by dangerous dreams, unsettled
I'm sorry —

Is there a map through your hair,
remnants of the moon on earth?  The sea
misses her.  And you, your white hair,
your skin of sand,
aeons of life pulsing through your pores, marbles
of cold water like paradise
behind your eyelids,

you knew me somewhere, somehow.  Before
the earth veered from the sea, I
must have been somewhere, I must have
touched you.  Small, insignificant,
heartbeat on heartbeat, how easy it is
to miss what is
essential.