The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2005

Orpheus the Thief

The angry Dead can still hear music, sleight of hand,

all his emotions deftly plucked in heart-struck tones.

They won't be moved again by any sound so grand.

The Underworld decreed all music had been banned—

though the tune still hums in their heads; in their bones

the angry Dead can still sense music, sleight of hand.

That con man nimbly played a lyric to command

the hasty release of his love, now one they owned—

they won't be moved again by any sound so grand.

O how they wanted to believe this clever man

who waded through the blacker waters all alone

to play the Dead his sad music. By sleight of hand,

he swore his fervid love for her (they'd understand).

How could they deny the only love he'd ever known?

Surely they'd be moved by such a sentiment so grand.

The Underworld gave in to his ardent demand

and were made fools of—he dropped her like a stone.

The angry dead can still hear music. Sleight of Hand,

they won't be moved again by any sound so grand.

J. P. Dancing Bear