Orpheus craved a three-way, freaked Euridice.
No matter the other slice was Heddy Lamarr,
voluptuous beyond body. She came on wavy and salty.

Euri was narrow. She could follow
one thread without a GPS, but not a sloppy goddess.
She’d been dissed.

No, she cried, but the bad boy stayed busy,
other line.
He glowed almost human, rosier

than nips in Hades.
They had soldiered brimstone, Orph and Euri.
He showed no loyalty.

Wrapped in whispers. Unless
she layered the club sandwich,
she’d be dumped outside the cave, days

before May took hold, when a cold shoulder
could still slaughter
babbling springs and buds.