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A Question of Antigone
by
Rachael Dickson
If something were to happen tomorrow,
To threaten my life's breath,
Would you be my Antigone?
Sending a message of hope through me,
But sorrow too, as death would carry your signature.
A blossoming rose, would you fall in my place?
An Alcestis, with no hero to fight off death?
Or would you stand and hold the coats and cell phones
Of those stoning me with blossoming hate?
Would I sink to the dust with heaven open above me,
Letting my last gasp resound in your memory?
Would you regret being a fan of the game,
And wish for another chance to turn the mulberry white?
(At least of my blood)
I wish for Delphi power, to find the answer sitting above a molten crack in
60's hippie hallucinations.
Two trees tend not to twine unless in agreement and under the best of
circumstances, I've been told.
I believe that I would become Joan, Stephen, and Theresa for you,
If only you gave me a chance to prove.
You have to hang together to know at all if you'd hang separately for the
other.
I yearn for you to want me.
(Want Me, Echo whispers.)
Oh for a trick to pull you in, as Love drew the Soul.
I would do most anything, but the balance seems unequal,
As I am uncertain of whether you would be my Antigone,
Or merely my Saul.
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