for when you’re here, have this of me. as time
lets go of us, a song escapes the circlet in
a stranger coming home; eventuality.

under covers of moonlight, the folding pages
yellowed in memory, a gnawing book-
worm spins the orphanage; mulberry leaves.

some shadows at a funeral see less,
and lesson me, nightmare and burnt-off limb.
to hold a hand in grace; fatherlessness.


//

Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

equally (isos)

if you would really ask (eroio)
me

// 234β

ἴσως

ἂν οὖν ἔροιό με