Sappho on the Rocks

By OKSANA MAKSYMCHUK

Your speech
tongue in cheek, like descriptions of cocktails
in this bar full of handsome strangers
who won’t meet my eye

Mesmerized
by your own voice, you speak
dangling pick-up lines like the glossy jewelry
we Hellenes use to con barbarians
into opening their cities to us

At my throat, like an arrowhead—
a venomous shot of Muse
quivering, thrilling to consume

Eros, I say, knows no bounds
doubts not
whether to draw—of the bowstring
when to loose—an arrow

Reaching for Sappho’s knee
you describe a chariot
yoked with sparrows

and it dawns on me:
this is Hades, Alcaeus

You smooth out my gown, place
your hand
over my mouth

On my face, like an animal—
a full beard, a bald spot under
my laurel crown

 

Oksana Maksymchuk is the author of poetry collections Xenia and Lovy in the Ukrainian. Her English-language poems have appeared in AGNI, The Irish Times, The Paris Review, The Poetry Review, and other journals. Her debut English-language poetry collection, Still City, is forthcoming with Carcanet Press in 2024.

[Purchase Issue 27 here.]

Sappho on the Rocks

Related Posts

Mantra 5

KRIKOR BELEDIAN
from channel to channel / the lengthening beauty of shadows that float and bow down / and suck at the stones and planks / of the damp, bitter fog / of loneliness, / stone horses let loose their golden neighs / and the waters transform to / stained glass

Book cover of Concerning the Angels by Rafael Alberti

January 2025 Poetry Feature #2: Rafael Alberti in Translation

RAFAEL ALBERTI
Who are you, tell us, who do not remember you / from earth or from heaven? // Your shadow—tell us—is from what space? / What light, say it, has reached / into our realm? // Where do you come from, tell us, / shadow without words, / that we don’t remember you?

The Old Current Book Cover

January 2025 Poetry Feature #1: Brad Leithauser

BRAD LEITHAUSER
I’m twenty-seven, maybe too old to be / Upended by this, the manifold / Foreignness of it all, the fulfilling / Queer grandeur of it all, // But we each come into ourselves / As each can, in our own / Unmetered time (our own sweet way), / And for me this day’s more thrilling