Hel is in her hall
with myriad silver ghosts,
and Hades is swimming in the river.

Glass kingdoms, these,
before those eternal realms,
where none but the dead are sleeping.

I have been called eloquent,
beautiful, and brave. But none of it
meant more than the name you gave me.

So afraid of you thinking me weak,
I sucked the ocean inside my stomach,
and held it until I was vomiting ships,
and splinters.

You were so quiet, you see, and I,
naïve, to think someone could be so
free as to move through life like the wind.

I love the secretive weaknesses
you keep. They are so like my own
that your face appears in the mirror.

My love, dear friend,
I can give you nothing,
no poison to sweeten the pain.

I am just here,
where I was, and will be,
and my ear is a conch
holding echoes of your voice.

© Deanna Scutt, 2017

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