Raids on the Inarticulate
Poetry that once graced the pages of Nth Degree
Persephone and Eurydice
by Tom Doyle
Drag us up, pull us down, Flashy gems, flashy lyre, They can’t be dead without us.
The gods were taller then, When we thought open fields were innocence.
But they grew small, standing together, Puny bird chests puffing songs and commands. If they had but spoken heard As we had seen felt We might have lost each other For heaven and earth.
Now we prefer the quiet of sipping pomegranate juice, so sweet To the noise of thunder and the jangling of strings, To games of chutes, snakes and ladders.
We enjoy these autumn leaf men, Silently forsaken here, too late learning awe Of spring, maids and love.
If they could see us, mothers lovers god man, Perhaps we wouldn’t be here, goddess woman, But they could only look need must want.
So beautiful, cold and unalone. | 
