Classic Poem

I

Drowning
I felt for a moment reaching towards me
finger tips against mine.

II

You mice,
that ate the crumbs of my freedom,
lo!

III

The clock strikes:
these are the steps of our departure.

IV

A brown oak leaf
scraping the sidewalk
frightened me.

V

Proserpine
swallowed only six seeds
of the pomegranate
and had to stay six months among the dead —
I was a glutton.