Narcissus

What he liked in her voice
was his name
called over & over
and the mirrorlike look
in the weeping tears of his lover;
in the end, he left her
on a chill mountain shelf,
in a damp cave
with her wits and her words astray,
to devote himself
to himself.

Then the gods with indolent yawns
took a high hand with him for
such eNOR
mous self-love
was considered by others a bore.

Changed to a flower
he stood by the river
a sad case
of rooted vanity;
he never forgave
the reflecting water
for rippling his face.

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