when he touches me i feel like helen,
a conquest, every breath he makes
is a series of premeditated breaths
to gain entrance. he never looks at me,
briseus, he won’t let me touch him for fear
i might find his weakest link. sometimes,
in the dead of night i run
in my mind
and see lanterns that show me tunnels
with roots digging deep into the concrete
and when i pull those roots they rot
in my hand until blue flames burst out
reminding me there’s no escape. no matter
how far i run, even the ground is telling me
there is nothing for me there. what lies below
is no haven. persephone.
when he wakes he takes me to the sea
and we dip our toes in the sand
as he tells me about his memories
but they are filled with a family he doesn’t trust
and i think of the one i’ve left behind, medea.
he wants me to start again, with him,
but there is no god here to save me.
Catalina Adragna is 23 and an MFA Poetry Candidate at Rutgers University–Newark. She has previous publications in The Ascentos Review, Delta Poetry Review, Eunoia Review, and Silo. She is a Gemini and a Pocha. Her Twitter: https://twitter.com/catadragna.