Whom shall I persuade? Her? You? I will
not concur I’ll stop loving you by spring

 

I want to remind you of all the urgent
labors awash in the storm, alive with our cargo.

 

Your anger is like a small child with no charm, is like
cobbling together beach refuse. Those etched by love

 

had their fill of your severe luminous oath
held out, a tender girl lying trampled.

 

No one will remember or miss you.

Poem is composed of fragments found in Sappho: Poems: A New Version, trans. Willis Barnstone. Los Angeles: Sun and Moon Press, 1998.

 

 

                                                                                                       ~Andrea Dickens

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