We walked the stairs through the Propylaeum.
People stopped and stared. You didn’t see them
but I did: the way they watched you sway
never toward me. Always away. Always away.
We studied the Odeon’s crumbling stone.
We stood on stage. I felt so alone
there with you. There without you. You stayed
a safe distance. Always away. Always away.
Don’t ask me how the gods work here in Greece.
How Athena controls fate just won’t cease
to amaze me. I know I’m not crazy.
We stepped from the theatre that warm June
and there before us the Parthenon moon
blazed pink-orange and blue above the temple.
You began to cry. We kissed, simple
and kind, like Cupid and Psyche. So still
were we there above the sea as we prayed
to the gods, vowing always to stay. Always to stay.
Roger Armbrust
June 30, 2011
