…And the Bacchae drank the minstrel’s song
his lyre like a coffin
on the errant river water

He’d called for them
had tricked their feet and minds with fury wine
because the singer, star-crossed,

could bear to look back
no more, would look for his love
no more.

[Alexandra Seidel probably caught the myth and fairy tale bug while she was out in the woods one midsummer day. Meanwhile, the disease has turned her into a Rhysling-nominated poet, a writer and editor. Her first collection of stories and poems, All Our Dark Lovers, is forthcoming from Morrigan Books on Valentine’s Day 2013. Other work may be found in Mythic Delirium, Goblin Fruit, Stone Telling, and elsewhere. You can follow her on Twitter (@Alexa_Seidel) or read her blog.]