literature

Atropos, picking at bandages:

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Literature Text

Atropos, picking at her bandages:

I learned on a fifteen-year-old boy who
picked the wrong time to run across the street
to the grocery store. Then the tapestry
blurred; I couldn’t even bring the blades

near the loom until Lachesis started laughing.
Weep as long as you need to, little sister; he’s
the one left lying in the middle of the street, taking
all the time in the world to die.
Clotho interwove

her mirth, and I stood mute, clenching metal
in my fists until blood dripped onto the skein.
In perfect unison they guided my stained
fingers, pressed cutting edges to the dangling

thread until the wool split, and his mother’s
scream echoed in my throat. I knew then
I could only cut the threads so many times before
those scissors would start to look like the best way out.
4th of 5 final drafts submitted in my first portfolio for Poetry Workshop.

If you don't know who Atropos is, google her. I really don't need to hear from anyone else, "Why did you write about a suicidal seamstress?"
© 2007 - 2024 tragiccomedy
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orion-mk3's avatar
Heh, I guess I was too quick in linking your poetry style to the contemporary, since here we have another entry from the canon of Greek literature.

This piece seems like a balance between the intense but cloudy modern poems and the less intense but clearer Medea. As such, it's clear what's happening, but you keep up the cadence and structure that makes it interesting.

I especially like the technique of presenting this from the Moerae's point of view--they are usually portrayed as intercessors or antagonists, and rarely cast in a central role.