The Baths of Aphrodite 2

by Christos Polydorou

My name is Sappho
and she was the mountain I fell in love with

From a distance
I was magnetised

I tip toed to her top
as my tail fluttered like a butterfly

I rubbed up against her
loving her every tree

I didn’t dare kill any of her myrtles
or swans as gifts for her

Breaking her heart
would be a regret that would flatten me

But she won’t have me
It’s because she says she can’t trust me

Is it because I am a cat?
She’s had too many cats for girlfriends in the past

And it was one and the same
What’s in my name?

I promised I’ve changed
But she’s turning around

Sh’se flaunting her back
Her hair toulouseing down her cracks

like a firewaterfall down the wayward wars
those wild armies of women fought for her encores

crumbling their lives like rose potpourri
She doesn’t like potpourri

She eats
only red flowers

She sucks only red fruit
And I wouldn’t know how to bring her one

Nor write her an ode
Like the odes mad masters write for her still

While I leave light footprints on the grass
My humility emasculating my sass

She smells like pine
And I pine for her

I fall asleep in her womb
As she solidifies my dreams

And I wake up weeping
Because I love her

So I am staying on this mountain top
Until she has me

It’s close enough to the sun
for fish to flicker in the soil

I chase her undulating mountain rivers
I eat fresh fish

As she weeps
And asks me to forgive her

For not saying it
With words

NB For my mother Lenia Polydorou for whom I am grateful for every day

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