HEART OF ADONIS
Gored fatally by wild, rampaging life,
I lay dying beneath a sheltering laurel;
My shepherd’s heart bleeding out pulse by pulse.
Alas, no Aphrodite to transform these drops
Into sweet-scented roses: love’s incarnation.
My life-blood drops onto these white pages,
Staining them with my suffering, joy and love,
Which, with a fingertip, I dip and form into these words.
( When the shepherd, Adonis, was mortally wounded in the thigh by a wild boar, Aphrodite changed the drops of blood into blood roses. )
( “Heart of Adonis” © 2013. All rights reserved. )