Myth
BY NATASHA TRETHEWEY
I was asleep while you were dying.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and my waking,
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and my waking,
the Erebus I keep you in, still trying
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking
you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.
Again and again, this constant forsaking:
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.
But in dreams you live. So I try taking,
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow.
The Erebus I keep you in – still, trying –
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow.
The Erebus I keep you in – still, trying –
I make between my slumber and my waking.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hallow.
I was asleep while you were dying.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hallow.
I was asleep while you were dying.
[note: Erebus, in Greek mythology, is the place of darkness the dead pas through between Earth and Hades.]
* * *
