Daphne died to arrive 
not in Elysian Fields but still 
in her assailant's embrace. 
She fled all joys of life 
to reach in fear, one arm to Olympus, 
the other to Peneus, her father 
who barely managed 
to petrify her in bark, create 
a breathing statue Apollo could snap, 
rip, tear pieces to praise, grace 
other aggressors’ strengths. 

Some days when the sky is gray 
and Zeus strikes a branch in anger, 
Daphne feels the pain for once, 
reminding she still lives, eternal 
victim of gods’ abuse. 
A bead of sap drips down 
to coat a single blade of grass. 
She finds a touch of comfort 
in her blooded tears — 
for pregnant she will never be; 
to the sister 
she upholds her chastity.