Tuesday, June 21, 2022

Stephanie Burt

 

(Galatea, frag. 378)

ἢ μᾶλλον χρύσειον ἐν ὀφρύσιν ἱερὸν ἰχθύν

That island feast
     was more than a feast; there Kyra and Kassandra
met us, and there was golden-­broiled giant bream with coriander,
     pounded with a mallet until tender,
green olives and capers and garlic and tiny lemons,
     and while I felt like a sleek finch on a sleek perch
while taking part in that repast,
     afterwards I just wanted to take a nap;
so we did, together,
     and when we woke it was dark, the moon scattered
her glitter all over the brine, and we were already
     entangled in each other, or rather
in one another,
     and so we decided to stay that way (letting Kassandra
take down her soft and complicated hair,
     and letting comfort alter
our positions as we chose, neither seeking
     nor finding much sleep),
and we stayed that way till the sun came up
     in the East.


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