Bacchae

it’s not like we came here to cause trouble
we just followed the man we all love, and the wine
this frenzy is not our fault
we can’t pretend we’re not enjoying it

you know you want to
run naked through the pines
tearing your toes to shreds
the blood creates a path to the way back

following the man was just an excuse
to leave home, really
we can’t pretend to love him without the wine
that shit helps everything

ready run through the pines, its bewitching
—the moss turns purple at midnight
forget you learned that it helps you find your way
you won’t want turn around anyway

We leave home the first chance we get
What could it have offered us anyway?
We were practically screaming for help
when Dionysus offered: chaos

you look beautiful in this purple midnight
all it takes is one glass & one more
you’ll want more, we promise
you’ll want more anyway

What more can we offer you?
An escape, purple moss, midnight, wine-stained lips
you were practically screaming for help
maybe we came here to cause trouble

Sage Curtis is a Bay Area writer fascinated by the way cities grit and women move. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Vinyl, Glass Poetry, Main Street Rag, burntdistrict, Yes Poetry, Vagabond City Lit, and more. She has been a finalist for the Rita Dove Award and the Gigantic Sequins Award in Poetry, as well as an Honorable Mention for the Wrolstad Contemporary Poetry Series. Her chapbook Trashcan Funeral is forthcoming from dancing girl press.

Photo courtesy of Kendal Leigh Photography