This woman here,
this woman and so many others
have been death-offerings for cruel gods.
Still alive,
done to death.
We should endure to live some brief while yet.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XIII.499-528, and Çiçek Beeby
Deep in my lungs
flourish
time after time
great cries of pain.
It was you.
Yes, you’ll be my terror.
Like icy winds
and stones of hail.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, IX.189-223, and Çiçek Beeby
I can speak and breathe and see the sky.
I did not end
when abandoned.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XIV.155-87, and Çiçek Beeby
We are owed
a road, a home, a kingdom
sovereignty, love, reprieve.
Not death,
and blood,
and vultures,
and tears.
Not limping forth till the edge of the world
to slip away
and breathe a faint farewell.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, X.30-64, and Çiçek Beeby
Her tottering steps
wish to avoid the world of men.
She almost lived too long.
She threw aside reverence,
then disappeared.
Her stupid heart
stretched by their fingers.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, VI.27-58, and Çiçek Beeby
To whom I have given all my faith:
love deserted your lips.
I’ll go forth alone
upon my roaming way.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, VII.159-87, and Çiçek Beeby