Actaeon Poem by Elizabeth Anne Martina Ryan
Actaeon
I took them racing in the lime fast air
to hunt and run and kill
their prey, the lesser forms of old despair
in thrall to nature's spill
A copse of shade to catch my breath
a fish packed pool
parting in a ring
when gold flesh
rises and withdraws
then eyes catch out and echo wrath
my career, my dogs who tear
my limbs, a stolen flute
falls in the seeping grass
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5/4/2024 7:39:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
