Sept/Oct 2020 • Vol. XLII No. 5 All of This Is TrueSeptember 1, 2020 |

Fragment 107

“Do I long for my virginity?” Sappho asks from the fragments, From the sun-bright blades and horns of dawn clattering on the floor, From inside a tomb, her office now the old heaven of pleasure Where a god that had been ignored can be called down With its spears and oblivion to a couch or field and submit A body, a lover, to the distress of love, and the god comes Because gods, too, need and are lonely and are generally unneeded Except in matters that cannot be mastered which are most Matters and the shadow of those matters from which you call, Sappho: “Do I long for my virginity?” Why, why Sappho, this marble beneath my tongue, this shadow, this stone Across my face, this thirty-year memory spreading out Over me as if I could forget its claws, confusion, its flashing bells, And violation? The virtue . . . the virtue of violation — Is there no end? Is there no end to the bed, the wall, her hand Across my six-year-old mouth, her hand Plummeting me like a stone,

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Which Was to Come

By Roger Reeves

“Do I long for my virginity?” Sappho asks from the fragments, From the sun-bright blades and horns of dawn clattering on the floor, From inside a tomb, her office now […]

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