LEILA CHATTI
Narcissus When a man throws himself into the black ink of the harbor, the news story says he is just your age. So I am relieved when you answer, the beloved hook of your voice latched in my ear, saying of course
I’m fine, I would never do such a stupid thing as rid this world of me. You were the one, long ago, who told me the myth of the boy who loved enough to drown in. I think perhaps now I love you because I cannot recognize you seen so clearly—suffering, you seem so like myself.
Raleigh Review | 51
