650 bce

no one knew the exact years

she died

nor could anyone pin when she was born

so

you must understand

that i did not believe it either

when with dried onions for earrings

and a black and white vertically stripped summer dress

there she was still

not still

sappho

the poet

the undead

reading with a beer in hand

at an open mic

in a nearly empty bar

where the morning was late

and the few shadows that survived from the week

were yawning their eyes

into the sewage of elbows

 

she didn’t notice me

or much of anything

as she began with breath

that painted the hills

outside the waste and bodies

with colours that have been

forgotten by evolution

of then to then

 

she started by saying

in a matter of speaking

i am dead

 

she asked

to a room of

belches and bellies

is your love large enough

for what has come

is it larger yet

for what is coming

 

she said

half my life is already over

but at your age

i was acting memorably

 

the onions turned to radish in the lazy light

the black and white dressed switched horizontal

she swayed between the arc of light

in between age old hate

ancient mesopotamia

and

saturday morning cartoons

 

i know you’re out there

she read off an ipad banged up

in the right corner

you who are not your thoughts

you who are not your body

you who i think i feel i wish to touch

are not you any longer

though you remain short

 

how did the words

i never write

spell your name

 

how did the words

i did

not

 

nothing came

except my expectation

that she would have been better

after some millions of days

but she muffled to the mic

that she was still working on that piece

with the ceiling

where at the moment

it had the upper hand

 

this is called

this calling

 

a cough a lung a life

 

to those who never knew me

i am sorry

i never took the chance

to know you

 

a single applause

which made her smile

pure alabaster and a summer when you

were ten and life made sense

 

thank you thank you

i am still nervous after

all these years

 

the light indistinguishable music slipped into a smattering

of a new punk rock band

whose name and song

would be forgotten by next year

when another nearly identical one

would roll through

 

sappho continued

as a lesbian poet

 

show us your girlfriend’s tits

 

i appreciate you listening to me

in times that hardly seem like it

where even here

where there is no here

you are history

 

someone hiccupped

 

my last for the night boys

 

someone snored

 

you have been the greatest

of great

 

someone farted

 

tonight

i have written it all

where the night stretches to not enough

and the sky sits on stars overwhelmed by sight

 

tonight

i have written it all

where the finest lines read slanted

and those uncomposed remain clear

 

tonight

i have written it all

where even then you leave me

and i begin to do the same with me too

 

tonight

i have written it all

where i reach an abrupt ending

and a tomorrow

 

tonight

i will write again

 

an awkward pause tapered above

her bangs

the onion earrings dipped to her cheeks

the punk band tapered to a close

 

i walked to her while she crammed the ipad

into an equally battered laptop case

 

she jumped

 

sorry you startled me

 

sorry didn’t mean to

it’s just i

 

i know

 

you do

 

yeah i thought i knew you too

 

what

from where

 

oh you look like

the back of this one book

i read when i was in college

 

oh which one

 

not a very good one

can’t remember the author

 

ah that’s okay

 

yeah

 

yeah

 

i didn’t get your name by the way

 

whoops

it is kacper

 

serena pleasure

 

thought it might’ve been something different though

 

like

 

i don’t know

 

oh okay

but it is serena

 

ya no i get it i get it

 

what

 

nothing

 

uhm ok

 

good poetry by the way

 

you think so

i thought

it seemed too conversational though

no one would ever read it

 

i would

 

that’s kind

 

no i mean it

 

okay cool

but look i have to go

 

oh ya

 

ya sorry

 

okay but maybe can i get your number

 

uhm sure ya

have a pen and paper

 

always

 

cool let me right it down

 

sure

 

so are you like an artist or something

 

no not at all

 

me either really

 

oh

 

ya

well here it is

 

thanks

 

no problem

see you around kacper

 

see you serena

 

the ipad winced away

the dress split into distant improbable electrons

the drunks remained

 

i looked at a paper

slipping with what

i could not read