Orpheus’s Death Published in Abramelin a Journal of Fine Poetry

http://thegiantgilamonsters.com/abramelin/

Orpheus’s Death


when I wrote
of men folding in their tight skins
like an apple—
apples swelling inside me—
it was a mask

when I wrote of a god
standing near the
window dancing—
it was a mask

there are no apples
filling my hunger,
no god folding
in his skin,
there is only the memory

of my self
torn at birth
by my own music