O, Cynthia by Cyn Grace Sylvie

O, Cynthia Cyn Grace Sylvie This poem was first published in The Dewdrop.Feminine variationThe mound bending Delos IsleWhere she was born with herBrighter brother; a white pearl sownUpon a black dress quite becomingHoly Roman epithetFrigid daughter of LetoShouldering a slim bowShe rounds upon the sacred doeAn ancient beast; forever chasingGrey sister, the Son of nightHeld aloft for all to seeA mirror shield reflectingThat frozen serpent ever doomedTo consume itself, murdered then bornVirtuous CynicismMispronunciation ofA Greek hero whose bloodBecame the plant; precious namesakeOf my grandmother, gray-eyed and blindWe pass a glass between us,One sharp tooth to tear and rendThis gold yarn ~ we dye red;Wet chords passed mother to child whileShe watches . . . pacing, quiet, unphasedCyn Grace, The Grey Strega (she/they) is a queer-identified writer whose work explores the internal drives and subversive desires of human experience, through the lens of mythology, sensuality, diaspora and mysticism. Cyn is a recipient of Epiphany Magazine’s 2017 Short Nonfiction Prize, and long-listed as a Notable Nonfiction Selection in ‘The Best American Essays of 2018’ (Mariner Books). Their writing has appeared in MATH Magazine, The Literary Review, The Dewdrop, and The Rumpus.You can find them on Instagram @cyngracesylvie and @greystregaAnd on Substack @greystrega Cyn Grace, The Grey Strega