Daphne, poem by Alessandra Bava (Mythic Poetry Series)

DAPHNE
by Alessandra Bava

I would not let your shiny
hands love me, o god,
and spread their inky
brightness over my body.

I would not be caught.
In tears I prayed the skies
to unwrap me from your
arms, like leaves from

their binding. So here
my skin becomes bark,
my toes roots, my hair
and arms fiery branches.

You won’t love me any more,
you won’t abuse me any more
and don’t dare carve your initials
on my trunk or I shall bleed.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The story of Daphne has always fascinated me, and I am particularly fond of some artistic depictions of the myth. Bernini’s statue at the Borghese Gallery is so beautiful and sad. It makes one feel all the rage and fear Daphne must have felt. Her wish to flee the god results in a horrible fate: turning into a plant, becoming forever silent. With this poem I wish to give voice to Daphne’s rage.

IMAGE: “Apollo and Daphne” by Antonio del Pollaiolo (c. 1475). Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Alessandra Bava lives and works in the Eternal City, where she manages her own translation agency. She holds an MA in American Literature, and she is the author of two bilingual chapbooks, Nocturne and Guerrilla Blues, both published in Italy. Her first U.S.-published chapbook, They Talk About Death, a winner of the Blood Pudding Press 2014 Poetry Chapbook Contest, is now available. Her forthcoming chapbook, Diagnosis, will be released by Dancing Girl Press. She is currently writing the biography of a contemporary American poet and translating and editing an Anthology of American Poets.