The Orphic Egg – Poetry by Gabriela Marie Milton

Kay Sage – My Room Has Two Doors

The builder of all things lives in me along with the seven disoriented ships he anchored in the port last spring.

The summer dried the sea.  The wood of the ships got rotten. 

The masts got buried in the wickedness of empty sunsets. 

It is winter.

It is Wednesday.

I was in the washing room. I saw you folded my laundry.

In the library the Orphic Egg suspends itself from the ceiling fan.

Under its pale light I study my hands with the same precision the child studies his.

I shed my clothes as snakes shed their skin.  

I feel your index finger contouring my spine.

One by one your writings penetrate my mind. 

The dimorphism of your poems spiral in two directions: torrential love and logical deductions. 

They are both the product of your brain.  I cannot kill them. I must allow them to exit.  

The object of my poetry? 

Not to concede life to touching pleasantries, fake passions, clichés, and the concentration of nothingness.

I displace the dark for the benefit of light.

I am the Orphic Egg.

Your fingers unbraid my hair and your breath touches my neck.

My silhouette dissolves itself into the coldness of the seven ships.

It is Wednesday.

It is winter. 


About the Poet

Gabriela Marie Milton is the author of the poetry collection Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis, 2020). Under the name Gabriela M, she was awarded Author of the Year at Spillwords Press (2019). Her poetry was featured in numerous poetry magazines and published in the following anthologies: America’s Emerging Poets Southeast Region (Z Publishing House, 2018); Florida’s Best Emerging Poets (Z Publishing House, 2019); Pain & Renewal (Vita Brevis Press, 2020); Words of Power (ed. Kevin Watt, 2020).

3 thoughts on “The Orphic Egg – Poetry by Gabriela Marie Milton

  1. A beautiful and meaningful poem, Gabriela. In a mundane world of dim libraries, laundry, and Wednesdays, you read and write poetry. I especially like the lines, “The dimorphism of your poems spiral in two directions: torrential love and logical deductions. They are both the product of your brain…The object of my poetry? Not to concede life to touching pleasantries, fake passions, cliches, and the concentration of nothingness…” All the best!

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