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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 3, September 2012


Dru Philippou
Taos, New Mexico, USA

Winding the Ivy

A band of maenads bearing thyrsi chant the sacred rites of Dionysus . . . Theban women their braids unraveled leave behind hearth and loom for the festivity . . . even the seer, Tiresias, in a cloak of dappled fawn and ivy chaplet is led by a guide to Cithaeron’s cleft . . .

shrined forever
in Delos, in Delphi
now in Thebes
Dionysus in the slumber
of a summer day

My best friend and I skip class and head for the mountain hot springs. Red lips stained with wine taken from our fathers’ cabinets, we splash each other and laugh over old stories through the long afternoon. A languid climb out of the water onto a bed of sea-green grass, the sudden clatter of hooves and dreamlike figures pass by. We follow them over meadows and through pine groves, hiding ourselves in shadows . . . but cannot keep up.

potted ivy twines
through chalked symbols . . .
startled by the blare
of the classroom bell



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