Ivy Fountain Blues (2004)
Written by Achilles Tenderloin
There’s a fountain in Greece that the Greeks left for dry.
Ivy spills from its lips, water changed into vines.
When you left me to die in this town,
did you pour sweet libations to soften the ground?
When you burned me in glistening folds,
did you please all your godheads,
or were you just warming your cold hands?
There’s no pain here.
There’s not even a heart anymore
in this breast of mine;
just a death-web of veins
crawling up through the ribs of my chest,
reclaiming my broken, broken…
There’s an altar beside where priests spilled the ewes’ wine;
where libations would drip down and stain the shorn fleece;
there’s a fountain in Greece.
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