The Poem Flees in the Same Manner I Once Saw Myself

Cassandra imploring Athena's revenge against Ajax the LesserPitched and sprinting down the backstreets
of our tiny island town, and water on all sides,

and a small girl, brown hair airborne like a Nike
swoosh, and to the West, the atom bomb

explodes, a whoosh of fire on a quest to take me
out, and nipping at my clever heels which feel

the singe, now I’m a madman, fleetfoot hurdler, fleeing
murder, oh, I wish you could have heard her, skipping

fences in a single leap. The town’s a heap of ashes,
a fringe of flame that lashes— that’s the world’s end

at my back, there’s the water with its final, breathless grave.
Why no eros without thanatos? Why am I slave

to both? I couldn’t let her drown. With nowhere left
to go, the fire in pursuit, the root of everything,

I turned her south: my life will not be swallowed
by my psyche’s awful mouth.



About evanduyne

I'm assistant professor of writing at Stockton University, where I'm also affiliated faculty in the Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies program. I work on Sylvia Plath, contingent faculty, and creative writing around trauma and domestic violence.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s