After Euripides & Ovid
I laced her poison dress with sorcery
and, to avenge my lover’s betrayal,
plunged my blade in tears of filicide.
Yet, my universe is beyond good
and evil which I transcend as fiction;
I need no twitching thumb to foretell
the tragedy of the divided heart; a human
folly of syntax that bisects I from thou.
All life now free-falls over the abyss
created by ironic sapiens whom devour
the singular world that succours them.
I walk through empty forests; fly in foul air.
My natural world is brutal myth; yet will
survive the stench of your extinction.