Eurydice Looks Back
by Ai Lee Woods
for days I have been a petal-white ghost,
my eyes on the horizon, adrift in a sea of flowers
that brush against me, velvet on my fingertips,
endless and ended. it is an unending repetition,
all that lies behind me; only the path ahead
holds color. him, walking, head bowed, voice silent.
his breath falters, he is no ghost,
his feet must ache as mine once did
when the snake wound its way around,
scales scraping along skin, fangs deep in tender flesh.
now I am pale as the underworld around me,
white on white on white, and he has not looked,
not turned as I have, to see all the world
we will abandon if we reach the sun.
I have, even as I am tired
of seeing it. I hold no love for what lies behind me,
but what lies ahead when he turns back,
when his eyes catch on mine, when his love--
his hand stretches out toward me, I will find myself
unable to hold blame, for is it such a terrible thing
to have loved