Orpheus
By Hannah Meyer
I want to live inside your ribcage
carve out a shard of your cheek
hide it underneath my fingernails
Swallow your plum-wonder-heart
each chamber
condensed & pulverised.
A letter to me
written
on the inside of your lip,
curled around a wine glass
between coat & collarbone
the body’s own lunar eclipse.
I am your synonym
Crash into me like a current
recede into oblivion
forever drawing back
looking, back, back, back
Hoops like tiny half-moons
glint beneath a hair
spilling over his forearm
Legs crossed & hands clasped
your laughter curdles the air
my lungs tighten
veins reroute atoms
I become & become & become & become
alone.
Hannah Meyer is a writer, director, and dramaturg who recently graduated from Muhlenberg College. She is a fan of sudden lightning storms, chutzpah, and finding the perfect bagel.