The Charon Cycle:
ante meridian
the name on every tongue
and in every long silent
corridor; the echo unheard
and unmentioned follows
the soft thud of heels
padded on carpet.
Hiss, sigh, rattle;
an arrival without
anunciation or welcome.
blood contained, tamed,
spun into gold.
The miller's daughter lives again
but this time makes no pact.
and the name that follows
the jumpsuited and coated
people on their rounds
intrudes even here.
The name hangs over the racks
of tokens, the red white gold
of a sacrifice, cautionary,
buying knowledge with coin
that runs sluggishly,
a dark secret river,
smelling of copper.
We bribe passage.
The boatman nods over the microscope.