by Brett Rutherford
Adapted from Archias, The Greek Anthology, vii, 191
Shepherd, attend!
Woodcutter, put down
your axe and listen!
Fisherman, pay mind
to the sirenless rocks.
Now, when you call,
who answers? No one.
Your unseen friend,
the reliable magpie,
I no longer keep
you company.
I’m on the road,
legs up, eyes white,
beak issuing
not even a breath.
Do you not miss
my familiar screech,
the comfort I gave
to your solitary work?
No crumb I sought
for all the cheer I gave.
Will one of you at least
come find me?
A decent burial is not
too much to ask!
