HippolytaTC Martin

After A Midsummer Night’s Dream

with the silliest silver skies
our solemnities
“our nuptial hour”
seem’d gallant, new-bent,

before: constancy, mutual dream.
duty, chance, days.
gone is my region.

with Theseus,
strange change:
hounds and night.
I behold. I bear. I
“come, Hippolyta.”
I am away, aweary,
and brief.

I steep my love
in moonshine, beshrew it
with transfigured prologue
such that
“come, my Hippolyta”
images to nothing.

sparta, cadmus,
hercules, crete:
finds of a government
howsoever sweet. I
“abjure for ever
the society of”

I do not bow (but
to the moon.
moon, moon,
thunder, and moon.)