Hades Welcomes His Bride

Come now, child, adjust your eyes, for sight

Is here a lesser sense. Here you must learn

Directions through your fingertips and feet

And map them in your mind. I think some shapes

Will gradually appear. The pale things twisting

Overhead are mostly roots, although some worms

Arrive here clinging to their dead. Turn here.

Ah. And in this hall will sit our thrones,

And here you shall be queen, my dear, the queen

Of all men ever to be born. No smile?

Well, some solemnity befits a queen.

These thrones I have commissioned to be made

Are unlike any you imagined; they glow

Of deep-black diamonds and lead, subtler

And in better taste than gold, as will suit

Your timid beauty and pale throat. Come now,

Down these winding stairs, the air more still

And dry and easier to breathe. Here is a room

For your diversions. Here I’ve set a loom

And silk unraveled from the finest shrouds

And dyed the richest, rarest shades of black.

Such pictures you shall weave! Such tapestries!

For you I chose those three thin shadows there,

And they shall be your friends and loyal maids,

And do not fear from them such gossiping

As servants usually are wont. They have

Not mouth nor eyes and cannot thus speak ill

Of you. Come, come. This is the greatest room;

I had it specially made after great thought

So you would feel at home. I had the ceiling

Painted to recall some evening sky—

But without the garish stars and lurid moon.

What? That stark shape crouching in the corner?

Sweet, that is to be our bed. Our bed.

Ah! Your hand is trembling! I fear

There is, as yet, too much pulse in it.

1993

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