Zoe Nyght (September 5th,1988 / Artesia, California)
Inside the myth
Beneath Zeus-dappled sky, a product of the gods,
we melt into Greek ambiguity.
Slowly, spinning, with our backs to the world and
love-potioned Aphrodite caught in our eyes,
we can’t escape the patterned night -
the nectar in my smile pins you to my breast,
and you’re compelled to love all that we were made from.
Forest nymph, I call myself, pressing my beating, pulsing being
into yours – we dance, dew-ridden, smelling like sunshine,
stretching sheets into ages past.
(When we were born, the world erupted in chaos,
predetermining the fate of our footpaths and)
the beauty made from stringing our souls together
rides the heavens and shoots down on us like sparkling meteorites
to crash and burn and explode in a kiss because we were
meant for each other.
In both of us resides a piece of Olympus, we’re golden and high
and so beautiful and cloudcaught. We can hardly see each other
for the light in our eyes, and we use this to explain away ourselves –
this myth is why we exist, and we write epic poems of nothing else.
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