12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

Fishing in the Styx

We went fishing in the Styx
just handlines
homemade lures
they say to speak by these shores
is to stay forever –
but we weren’t talking then
anyway
we were two people fishing
united only in action
our souls silent
unquiet as the River
each
elsewhere

Lost on us:
the gods in vengeance
who hope lovers might speak in this Dark
the way Orpheus could not
not turn
before Light swathed Eurydice’s smirk

The plan
the allowances
bound by the sullen word of gods
while fingers
lines
are crossed
and the fishhook curl of a lip
means
they need do no more:

we alone break
breach our own agreements
by being human
by fishing in the Styx

durhamwear

Image and poetry Alison Boyd © 2013.

 

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