Myth

by Natasha Trethewey

I was asleep while you were dying.

It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow

I make between my slumber and my waking,

the Erebus I keep you in, still trying

not to let go. You'll be dead again tomorrow,

but in dreams you live. So I try taking

you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,

my eyes open, I find you do not follow.

Again and again, this constant forsaking.

*

Again and again, this constant forsaking:
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.

You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.

But in dreams you live. So I try taking,

not to let go. You'll be dead again tomorrow.

The Erebus I keep you in — still, trying —

I make between my slumber and my waking.

It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow.

I was asleep while you were dying.

                                                             Photo: AMD5150