anon_j_anon (anon_j_anon) wrote,
anon_j_anon
anon_j_anon

v

“Break me into heaven tonight, okay?”
Dante kissed Beatrice in his poem dreams.
Tangled his fingers through her aspen hair
Took in the scent of rosemary growing wild
But she was never there.
Instead, he was in a forest—a lion, a wolf, and a leopard by his side
Companions his hunger.

Beatrice, who should have broke him into heaven
Sent fucking Virgil and made him go through hell
Then put him through purgatory, space between places
Where ghosts line up to cash in prayer credits
Like a goddamn casino.
He listened to a sermon last Easter to resurrect confidence with no swagger
Beatrice wasn’t there.

“Break me into heaven tonight, okay?”
And she, more nymph than angel, fled his arms
Transformed into a laurel tree, skin of bark
Hair of leaves, feet sinking into the earth and river
Arms branching to sky.
Now he wanders the forest with demons at his side, not in heaven or hell or puragatory
Searching for Daphne.

Or was it Beatrice? Was he Apollo, or Dante?
Musician poet artist cast from the sun, damned
To wander endlessly, live a life of going to the gym
Every fucking day. Eating bagels with barley soup and apples.
He misses intimacy.
The lion, leopard, and wolf aren’t her. These pine trees and poplars aren’t her.
The laurel isn’t either.

“Break me into heaven tonight, okay?”
When he got to heaven it was amazingly
Underwhelming. The celestial spheres, the eagle weren’t
Interesting. Turns out, he’d already penetrated the first sphere
Selene, the moon.
He found himself longing for the forest, soil like a new birth canal, hidden lakes and loons crying in the distance,
Aching.

He leaves her. Beatrice, he leaves her in heaven.
Goes back to the forest, where the lion, wolf, and leopard wait
Eyes glowing with menace and affection
Because he finds, he liked her better
As a laurel.


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