that will be odd, but so was happiness

I'll tell you plainly my dear that my heart 

broke like a berg when the news hit me, 

and I know that word makes you stop short. 

So strange, after all, to see just the tip. 

 

They say the shadow self trails us 

for fathoms like a dirty tail. Ignore 

my mixed comparisons. I'm not my best. 

Yesterday, you had me still. From now, we 

 

will not exist. That will be odd, but so was 

happiness. I know it's destiny, 

the way I know the Argo is a blessed 

 

ship. It's just a fact and just fantastic, 

the way my whole life has been. The power. 

The magic. And now the metaphors stop. 

 

[Anna Maria Hong 'I/Device' from "Medea Cycle" in Fire on Her Tongue: An Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry]