Athens, 1970 and Fragments, poems by Louise C Callaghan

      Athens, 1970

              *

      Honeymoon

      In the Blue Line bus, shaken about
      like boiling butterbeans,
      we raced towards Delphi – the omphalos,

      navel of the cosmos –
      to see the hero-hymns come alive.
      But her morning-sickness forces our driver

      to pull over,
      as she descends to vomit in the dust.
      We circled the base of Mt. Parnassus,

      what seemed like hours. Phoebus-Apollo
      showed not the least interest in us,
      our mortal concerns, counting dates

      from her last menstrual blood.
      The shame when back at home her waters
      broke a full two months too soon.

              *

      Athena in Mourning

      We’d agreed to rendezvous at Olympic
      Airways Agency on Syntagma Square.

      When I was not there by four, or four-thirty
      in the intense heat and chaos of traffic,

      my girl-wife suffered a panic attack.
      She blamed me when it happened there were two

      identical offices on opposite sides of the Square.
      As useless to have blamed Athena,

      her head bowed, leaning on her spear,
      for the havoc of the Persian Wars.

        Fragments

        for Felicity

        Sung at weddings,
        sung again
        at birthday festivities,

        recited by Cleis
        her daughter
        under the almond trees.

        Memorized,
        copied down,
        translated with more

        or less success.
        Read by us
        at your kitchen table.

        In Latin, her verse
        was reviled
        by a woman-hating Church.

        Word-songs
        wrapped
        the chambered bodies.

                *

        In winter sunshine,
        behind your house
        we scoured the hills



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