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Maggie Rahilly
Poem
Charon’s Obol
forgoing the cypress
and the trip to calabasas -
the steady certitude
of wanting and saying
we were “needing”
of each other.
it's almost funny now -
the bits of you on
my carpet and in the
closet, the trimmings
of my green on your floor.
a telos untethered,
an us undone.
once, you lit me up -
gold and platinum
and menthols.
you told me secrets
of your seauton.
and i sucked on your
words like olives,
kalamon and salt, til
i spit the seeds out
and silenced them,
with the sole of my boot.
open your mouth, you said
give me your tongue
so i might taste
you, and i’d obeyed
only for obol,
only to meet my end
on this pitiful skiff.
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