“The here is her,” he said, over and over
without turning round. Wait he kept
thinking, and he waited in that waiting
and knew every time we speak we stun
the word, so he hummed, but the humming
grew, each bee’d syllable toward
a name, and as he turned
almost surprised to read its sign—Eurydice
Eurydice—now the radio of his voice
dismantling sound.
– from Eurydice & Orpheus by Mark Iwin
heavenfaced 