Victim of Women
Perhaps the chest of Orpheus alone,
Or half a shoulder, half a curled head
Would be enough for man. They might atone
Among the rocks and olives where the dead
Bereaved lie torn to shreds because of love
By women. There a man might pick him up
In body fragments and blaspheme above
To gods who swill ambrosia, might cup
His genitals and stanzas with respect
In tinctures like the soul. A shepherd might
Collect the tatters and create a sect
To worship lyrics and a man at night.
..Embracing rag-like lines and armless chest,
….We men might let ourselves become obsessed.