Styx
by Dana Levin
You put a bag around your head and walked into the river.
You
walked into the river with a bag around your head and you were
never dead，
in your land of scythe and snow——
game on the banks of your
mental styx——
for the double
audience
of smoke——
——
You pressed a coin into his palm and stepped across the water.
You
stepped across the water with a hand on his arm and he was
silent and kind as you
shoved off， toward the smoky coils
of the greek-seeming dead——
You‘d been trying to sleep.
Found yourself here，
in the mythocryptic land——
The river
——
had widened to a lake. You were anchored
in the shallow boat
by his faceless weight——
And on the green shore you could see their vapored
residue， how they could
smell it， those two， your blood‘s
curl and shade——
If you
——
slit your wrist you could make them speak.
If you
slit your wrist you might be able to sleep， he‘s
got a hand on your arm，
he wants you to see——
Dead， dead：
he wants you to see.
Ferryman， Sandman， head
a featureless
cloud——
Grief. It is Grief. Handing you back your coin.
标签：赏读,Styx,诗词
