Earlier this year I started a 2010 suggested reading list of women poets and then promptly got off track. I wander. Life intervenes. But I'll slip back for a moment and mention Linda Gregg. Apologies ahead of time to my friend Clayton, who wants to commit violence to the Orpheus myth every time it is mentioned in poetry. I do understand. But just one more? Please? This is from All of It Singing.
Getting Down
The snake leads the way
to a place of absolutes
where no man can talk
you out of anything.
It's a place as real as
an empty pool in front
of the not-in-service-at-
this-time motel. Each
person has a secret world.
Places where nobody can
visit. Places we live in
after our death.
The temple on the hill
is abandoned. There's no one
even to light its lamp unless
I do it. Afterward, I fall
asleep on the warm stones.
Safe. In my dream I realize
the truth about Orpheus.
He never went far into
the dark before turning around.
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