Orphean Epilogue
By Casey McMullin
This is the part
where I turn back and see you
fade into the sunlight, screaming
discordance. I imagine it sounds like how angels look—
Real angels, mind you. Seraphim with claw wings, sharp eyes
that stab into mine, unfathomable and ineffable and—
Holy, holy, holy shit.
Hell hath no fury
Like the sun hangs above us, shadows pool at our feet.
Nightshade petals curl around my ankles like fingers that burn and bleed
purple. Purple like Victoria’s dress, purple
like how wisteria weeps and bruises flush the flesh against
your will. They bloom now in full color and I am rooted to
you, my earth, the soil that will cover my grave
as I lie awake screaming and the world mistakes me
for the sound of stars twinkling, the way the night shifts and writhes
against sunrise.
Hello? Hello.
Sweetheart, wash the bleeding mud from beneath your fingernails.
Or don’t. Maybe you were just looking
for a new color to paint them with.
I hope my blood is just
as beautiful as you
remember.
Is this thing the thing you thought I would be?
I don’t remember feeling
this broken or bemused.
Note to self: Learn when to shut the fuck up.
But here I stand in this cathedral anyways, like the one
we should have married in. Now you’ve outgrown me like our cypress tree,
almost fourteen-and-a-half times my size. Now I yank on my heartstrings and they reverberate in kind
to play that song that is Cerberus’ lullaby, Hades and Persephone’s first dance.
She wore a purple dress, too. Just like yours.
I play my lyre like you play my liar
between breaths of how dare you and I can’t love you. But then you sink
your nails in, spooling red thread around your fingers, and watch
me fray. The fourth string snaps and the world weeps
silently: gentle heaves of my chest rising and falling
for you, again and again.
Yes, baby, tear me to shreds until I am light
enough to be carried away by the breeze.
Burn me like my old letters and watch the wax seal melt. Cry:
“Dear dumbass: you turned away first.”
About the Author
Casey McMullin is a junior English major with a Creative Writing concentration. They love to write poetry with the vaguest of Romantic sensibilities.