Home Poetry Elysian


by Stephanie Alfaia

I only spent a short time glowing, dancing in his Garden of Elysian
you see, my access was revoked before I ever made it past
the trap door hidden under his left breast.

My prying fingertips were slapped away
just as they peeled back the foliage
that guarded his impenetrable heart.

He grabbed my wrists with one hand and dragged me out but
he couldn’t help but place wet kisses on my cheeks on the way.
I’m not there yet, he said.

I still visit the garden, only now I wait at the gate
caressing each of the twelve pearls that decorate
my very own entry to heaven.

An orchestra playing in and out of my nose
low muffled, stuffy baritone solo whining:
let. let. me. me. in

I wait so long I can hear him singing, rather, I imagine his voice
I hear my name sliding around on his tongue, I hear him chew it ever so delicately
savoring every bite before he spits it out.

Something about the way he says my name
it cuts into the air like Hermes’ arrow
and pierces me, right in my core.

I wait so long the seasons begin to change and suddenly I feel a chill.
His branches stand empty mid winter yet still he does not call.
Still. I stand frozen and imagine what it would sound like if he ever
said my name again.

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