Michele Sherman Poet Free verse

His Lips As Mythology

kissing him, i feel like icarus. except this time,
we stick the landing

kissing him, he becomes the pomegranate and i 
become persephone 
(fruit has never looked so good)

loving him, i become achilles with his heel, 
medusa with a mirror,
the epitome of not-so-happy endings

and yet, with all the stories written, 
with all the stories told,
with all the heads chopped off and eternities
spent with dear old hades, 

i'm writing this story the exact same way.

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Caren Krutsinger November 1, 2018 at 10:54 AM Natalie, this poem is a terrific tribute to silence, one of my favorite things of all times. It always "reveals the things I want" also.

Caren Krutsinger November 1, 2018 at 10:35 AM "loving him, i become achilles with his heel, medusa with a mirror, the epitome of not-so-happy endings" It is so delicately written, but it is telling that it ends the exact same way. Nicely written, Michele.