Camille Lewis

Orpheus is at my window. Again. With his lute. 
“GO AWAY!” I scream.  

“The last time you did this  
I got a DMCA strike from Twitch.” 

He vows, gallantly, as he has done before 
That he will return. 

I watch him cross the street: maybe he feels my gaze on his back
He turns, as though dragged by a magnet. 

And is swiftly crushed by an oncoming Prius. 
I try and use the lute he leaves behind to write a dirge 

A tribute: but can only play an F to pay respects 
And the best I’ve got lyrically is “Orpheus is no-Morpheus”. 

I mean that he’s ceased to exist, but when I write it down 
I think of the Matrix. He could have stopped that car with one hand. 

That would have been cool. Song-writing isn’t as easy as it looks.
I think I was a bit hard on him. 

Camille Lewis is a writer and avid reader who lives and learns with borderline personality disorder. She can be found indulging in Plath or crossing off days on a calendar until the next installment of the “A Song of Ice and Fire” series is released. Camille reads for The Winnow and Bandit Fiction.