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“Hades Where we go when he closes my eyes and under what country; some blue darkness, farther from hell; a landscape of absense and root and stone. There are no bodies here, we dream shapeless dreams-- a constant, cloudless storm. Mother, I'll never wake up from him. I have already traveled too far. My mouth is the color of his mouth and his arms are no longer his arms; they're mute as smoke, as my first white dress, and the spear of his name, once ferocious, dissolves on my tongue like sugar, like birdsong, I whisper it: Hades” — Cecilia Woloch
Hades
Where we go when he closes my eyes
and under what country;
some blue darkness, farther from hell;
a landscape of absense and root and stone.
There are no bodies here,
we dream shapeless dreams--
a constant, cloudless storm.
Mother, I'll never wake up from him.
I have already traveled too far.
My mouth is the color of his mouth
and his arms are no longer his arms;
they're mute as smoke, as my first white dress,
and the spear of his name, once ferocious,
dissolves on my tongue
like sugar, like birdsong, I whisper it:
Hades