Sappho As Sibyl

On the shelf above my desk
I placed a bust of Sappho,
to be companion, guide, and guest,

but now an ivy frond
meandering alongside
has jeopardized our bond;

it glides like a caress
of green around her neck
and slithers between her breasts.

Oh, Sappho, am I cursed?
Or are you telling me:
No art without the earth?


First appeared in New Ohio Review