I wrote a poem about Eurydice.
I was thinking at the time about--
well, I was thinking about some boyfriends I had at first.
[LAUGHTER]
Then I was thinking about Orpheus and how so many poems
had been written in praise of what
he had gathered from the underworld
and brought back of his songs.
And so I wanted to write a poem from her point of view--
Eurydice.
"I linger, knowing you are eager,
having seen the strange world where I live,
to return to your friends, wearing the bells
and singing the songs which are my morning,
with the water in them, with their strange rhythms.
I know you will not take me back.
Will take me almost to the world,
but not out to house color leaves.
Not to the sacred world that is so easy for you, my love.
Inside my mind and in my body is a darkness which I am equal to,
but my heart is not.
Yesterday, you read the Troubadour poets
in the bathroom doorway while I painted my eyes
for the journey.
While I took tiredness away from my face,
you read of that singer in the garden with the woman
he swore to love forever.
You were always curious what love is like.
Wanted to meet me, not bring me home.
Now you whistle, putting together the new words,
learning the songs to tell the others how far you
traveled for me.
Singing of my desire to live.
Oh, if you knew what you do not know.
I could be in the world, remembering this--
I did not cry as much in the darkness
as I will when we part in the dimness.
Near the opening, which is the way in for you
and was the way out for me, my love."
[APPLAUSE]