Too Little, Too Late

I want to be Desdemona, Cassandra, or maybe Nadezhda

fully of tragedy, misunderstandings, prophecy and grand passions

feel the rage of desires denied

because of mythos, bigotry and society

or simple indifference

write long paeans and odes

to my mystery lover

dirges and requiems to family and the gods

bemoaning fate

walk across pounding windswept surfs

contemplating unrequited dreams of orgasmic relief

yes, I want to grow morose over love misunderstood

catastrophically deferred or dashed

vying with Homer and Cervantes

de la Barca and Pucchini

both opera buffa and opera seria

a Janus faced comedy and tragedy

and when the curtain falls

lie beautifully arranged in state

while he declaims draped artfully across my coffin

I love her still

Note: Originally published June 2007 by The Farmhouse Magazine - Art for the Open Source Generation