Poetry

Narcissus in the grocery aisle

The gods were bored today.

Lounging upon Mount Olympus,

Drinking nectar and playing darts

With Zeus’ lightening rods.

Tiring of torturing young lovers,

Aphrodite calls Eros over for a game.

And I,

Innocently going to the store for milk,

Meet Narcissus in the aisle.

The handsome face,

Sleek words,

I can only echo back,

Angry at his charm and guile.

Two p.m.,

Searching for a business card,

I come across a picture of Pyramus.

He never came that night.

Next morning I found the chink

In the wall filled,

With concrete.

Eight o’clock.

Adonis e-mails me.

His name appearing onscreen

Like Scrooge’s tombstone.

While I write back lines like

Lies on Valentine cards.

And Eros pricks my heart with the old arrows.

The new red covers the dried hurt,

Spreads to a dull ache in my spine.

Forewarned now,

I creep through a brilliant spring day.

Wary.

A Persephone dreading Hades return.

Stacey Wadsworth