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Epic

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It’s you I’d like to see Greece again with
You I’d like to take to bed of cyclamen
You know I nurse a certain myth
about myself              that I descend
de tribus d’origine asiatique
and am part Thracian or Macedonian
cleaving to a Hellenic mystique
after centuries’ migration inland

a full moon             rising over the Acropolis
I can repeat the scene        this time à deux
as then I had no one to kiss
slicing halloumi amid the hullabaloo
of a rooftop taverna in   July
The doors that opened to lovers
pulled like tree roots from darkness        I
close upon us now like book covers

The alcove in which we embrace
is cool with brilliant tile
and weirded by a dove’s note       chase
of ouzo with Uzi          junta-style
History makes its noise      we duck
till it passes      Love we think is our due
Not we think like the epoch
the unchosen thing we’re wedded to

Source: Poetry (December 2013)

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This poem originally appeared in the December 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

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Epic

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