Daphne Without Apollo

Ada Hoffmann

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Not running away. Not pleading

for a hiding-place -- vain boy of a god,

did you think you would blot me

from the world? -- but running to


the earth I craved. The strength I sprawled against

in summer and winter, mourning my pink little hands

which could only trace roots in the rocks.

Only sing love-sick in watery notes

till the broad earth laughed her earthquake laugh

at last:

Yes, love. Come.


You saw me then, running to tangle

my feet at her heart. My face grown tall,

upturned. The wind ashiver in my thousand arms,

grown solid, heartwood-thick

and riddled with birds.


Vain boy, did you mean to chase me? Yet I

have forgotten you.


Ada Hoffmann finds writing much more satisfying than actually talking to people. Her poetry has appeared in Strange Horizons and Goblin Fruit. You can find her online at http://ada-hoffmann.livejournal.com/ or on Twitter at @xasymptote.

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