Eurydice and the Dead

Eurydice and the dead will have such a ball when that fool with all them strings is gone. I mean, don’t they have enough song down here already? The river of dead dreams, overflowing with cellos from forgotten child prodigies, half the state of tennessee, all them tunes reluctant surgeons sing mid operation. Oh trust me, he won’t make it past the first glint of sky before nerves turn his hymn to mist. It’s not so cruel if you really think. You see that mountain of gold rings that makes the river glow? Something was bound to die, I say better the girl than her joy. Guarantee by the time we hear that boy’s thin whistle again it’ll be saying some other faded name. Hades knows this game by now. Course he just gets grumpy in the spring, how it reminds him he’s just as much a fool as all these wrinkled lovers, grasping at seeds the wind has cast. You see all those ribs he's pieced into a throne? Rumor is he keeps the hearts in little mason jars, neatly lines them on a shelf inside his bedroom. Love ain’t dead, just with the dead. Oh look, and here she comes, sobbing into her hands. Can’t say I’m surprised. Hope is such a damned thing. Still, wish I could tell her he ain’t worth the grief anyhow. She’ll learn. Give it two weeks, girl will shave her head and get a viper tattoo, maybe wear a leather jacket like they do in Grease. And Hades ‘ being lonely can at least build his red collection.