Amicus Plaga
by Travis MacMillan

Vestal flames consecrate singed fingers,
which grasp nothing
but wisps of smoke…
robbed by the barrier that burns between us:
a barrier you feed
day after day,
night after night,
as I implore Bacchus in vain
to assuage my fate,
while my drunken binges fail
to drown the sober reality:
above an undying pyre, dance the gilded tongues
that shall never burn for me.

Cursed is the lot which fell to you
to serve the fire of that heartless deity,
who deigns not to accept my bartered oblations
in exchange for your release.

From how many dreams has the morning sun ripped me from your embrace?
From how many prayers have the gods turned their backs upon my desperate pleas?
From how many cracks has my heart finally shattered

May all of Rome herself be swallowed
into the heart of the ground,
interred and forever forgotten,
if that would vouchsafe your hand.

Perhaps in another life, you tell me
we might find uncrossed stars in the heavens above.
Yet, I have already crossed the Styx and returned a thousand times,
and every rebirth, I still see your
gossamer gown trail mercilessly behind you,
inside that damn tomb you call a temple,
where my heart lies interred,
where we remain eternally,
world without end,
just friends.