I. His Intro

Orpheus is a child without a name everyone

has taken his name

the words in the air are already too crowded we need to remove some

unnecessary words and his name

belongs to the kind that can be crossed out in batches, then

cross it out remember to black it over with a pen

he grows a little taller he can walk unsteadily through

the public station, he has never traveled so far from home.

Mother says she will take him to see Father, she has broken the promise several times. What mother has not

carried him like a kangaroo through the town center, occasionally slapped his face

don't eat what other people are holding, don't move closer to smell it, don't eat snot

don't ask other people for money, don't let them look down on you.

At the station he stands on the arm of a waiting-room chair, an acrobat

someone plays a piece of music, how beautiful what instrument is that

the smell of red meat fills this station, Mother where are you

but he will play the clarinet, that is

after he grows up, a bald man teaches him. They stand smoking at the door, Baldy says

he has no name either but, some music is made for slaves, servants, the humiliated, people without names

it burns and pounds inside you like honey squeezed from the wax glands of worker bees

however much time has been wasted, that is how fiercely your spirit must cry out. Let it out!

You play so well, has anyone ever told you

you could be a musician?

The streetlight strikes Baldy's bald head, his swollen scalp resembles

a damp golden star

next—Baldy opens the palm of Orpheus's right hand—try, with this music, to dance

II. Meanwhile She Arrives

from beneath the sea she rises

from inside the shell she knows beauty

from the feather she understands weight

from the aperture of night, the dark side of light, the hydrothermal oxygen

from the other side of the dance floor she comes

III. In the Hallucination They Are Carefree

I am a sailor I once followed, the ship Argo

the hero Jason wanted to seize a Golden Fleece, he recorded the prophecy and the legend he would fulfill

on his résumé, for this he was willing

to stop at nothing, therefore, waves overturned us, sirens paralyzed us, stars sank us

then I danced on the deck, I turned so hard the wood began bleeding

spare them, said a god, among them is a madman, he dances as if life lasts only as long as one song

and I am a nymph from the valley I too

have heard enough mounted men boast.

They exchange secrets in voices like bells, ensuring

I can hear the echo of hormones

woman, follow here the formula for happiness

obey the proper signal, keep the mountain's instruction

whatever wisdom Pan says will make you unhappy

you must discard

I have none of what you want, everything you expect will fail

my name has been taken from me my

words are in other people's mouths

listen around us, listen to the lazy people

trying to invent a universal word

that meets the standard of beauty in every rhythm.

Now look at me: I do not care what you possess

keep turning me, or let me turn you

let the center of our circle sink into the veins of the wooden floor

what time is it? in the next phrase we shall marry

time after all is only a gust; it passes through us, and we alter its shape

my name is Eurydice, I am a nymph from the valley

let every untrustworthy institution bear witness for us

IV. Her Slow Death

Their wedding takes place in the interlude, her death

also begins in the interlude. Music, at times, is a compulsion

the motif joins their palms, likewise

at the climax he must release her

he attaches importance to minute omens.

Do not let the heel land on the edge of a tile, whichever eyelid begins to jump close it

his already fragile life cannot withstand the next blow, or

he will lose air like an empty trouser leg and fall to the floor.

One person steps over him, then the next, and another. Humiliation

falls like a seal into his silent folds.

He releases her with great care, perhaps

he already knows that her departure is inevitable. Loss

is so common it is almost his mother tongue. But

how exhilarating the brief wedding, every beast prostrate at his feet, the birds

blessing her. He stands one foot away

she closes her eyes, enjoying

the free turn. And he watches her with the clarity of tears.

The hand clutching the ring trembles.

It happens anyway. Slowly flowing

fate pours down as a waterfall. Before the interlude ends

a venomous snake silently reaches Eurydice's ankle.

I did not bite her from malice, in fact I too am

a victim of a certain standard. The snake says at its later trial,

humans slander me, say I tempted Eve, say I killed Eurydice, in any event

say I offended beauty, but they decide what beauty is too, if you ask me

how can beauty be the lowest common denominator, if you ask me

Beauty is incompleteness. Beauty is ugliness seeping through. Beauty is the scar.

The happy trumpet continues, all things rising like hydrogen

she alone falling,

like the handle of porcelain, a flower, opening toward the center of the earth

V. He Goes to Recover the Irrecoverable

You want to reconnect the blown fuse on a night without power, you want

to shield with a lighter the stove that will not catch, you want

to retrace your road, some kind person standing there waiting

for the owner of the key ring and lucky charm to return.

At the wedding you catch Eurydice's falling waist and lean her against your shoulder

you turn as you did in the storm aboard Argo, turn, turn, the dutiful clown never tires

this is how the dance is. Baldy once told you. Jazz too, slaves are full of energy

however much pain you have, that is how much energy it has.

So you circle her corpse and turn until both her feet leave the floor

like a napkin flying from your neck, a

weightless shackle.

Alone, you dance an exceptionally sad dance for two, and the phrase follows your steps

becoming an exceptionally sad phrase.

Gods and nymphs weep for it. Beneath your soles, the bleeding floor begins to collapse

the road into hell opens before you.

VI. The Scales

Hades has an official title of his own, he is also

an enthusiastic scientist

he sits on a tall chair at the road's end, playing with humanity's newest invention:

humans are close to discovering the universal word, possessing it will explain the secret of the cosmos

a unified theory, soon to reconcile quantum mechanics and relativity

rules are the theme of this universe. Simple rules help complex reality evolve. Did Einstein not say

God does not play dice.

I perform my duty faithfully, Hades says. Strictness is a necessary quality

so I can properly administer the population statistics, distribution of wealth, and entry and exit procedures in the register of life and death

if you want human fairness, young man

then dream on. If you expect to describe divine fairness, young man

prepare for cruelty—the universal word is, after all, more than humans can bear.

But you truly made me weep, why is that?

Then let us do this, for once I shall break precedent and make an exception:

you may leave with your wife, you may bring her back from death

but you must finish dancing this piece

a friendly reminder: this tunnel is sinister and long—

and before you reach the human world, under no circumstances may you look back at her.

VII. He Hopes

At first there is darkness. At first there are no lights.

People all dance without seeing, secretly embrace.

In barns, cotton fields, roads with shadows.

Then a ring of light grows at the end, like a vaporous pupil

he dances too hard. He smiles falsely like a coerced performer

it is not a happy dance even if it looks like one.

Now he cannot feel her weight, he wonders

whether they parted long ago

Eurydice, we are almost there, he says.

Eurydice, when we arrive I will make you a white dress, he says.

Eurydice, I will build a small wooden boat, at dawn we will depart, he says.

Eurydice, tell me about the valley where you were born, I want to know, he says.

Eurydice?

Eurydice.

Love, too, is a compulsion. Everything that made him journey now makes him turn.

He looks back

she falls

Eurydice? Eurydice.

VIII. Her Long Fall

She once divined her fate with an eraser, on a rainy day

she sat, first row beside the window. After several tumbles the eraser

stood in the center of her desk, she concluded

that nothing in her life would happen as she wished.

The tip of her nose brushed the people she loved,

like a probe, a

deep-sea submarine, gliding silently across

the surfaces of things she found tender

she and her cat in the living room.

The television reports the Tower of Babel's gratifying progress,

these days Mount Olympus is no longer tall, with drones people

glimpse the gods' real estate. A rich man claims

he can send humans to Mars, or make them immortal, but first

you must prove that you belong to the most valuable group.

On the dance floor she learns endurance, learns

to accept the music's manipulation, accept

life's unknowability, accept

the small death at the end of every song.

She falls freely in a stranger's arms

and the path of free fall reminds her of

a kind of flight she once read about. This flight makes her

weep

people mistake the meaning of her silence. They guess

either Hades cursed her, or she said nothing

on the road to the human world to test Orpheus's loyalty.

They insist, a suspicious thing must have a cause, change

must have a beginning. But she only feels

that the phrase belonging to them has ended.

She no longer resists the fall. As she falls freely

his astonished face is the same as at the wedding,

he recedes like railway markers when a train reverses.

She closes her eyes and feels again that flight.

IX. His Predestined Life

Orpheus plays the clarinet before a shop window. Or dances with his head lowered. He refuses to leave

barely earning enough to live. Inside the window, a mannequin in white.

People enter to apply makeup, try clothes, haggle. Eyebrow pencils move before the mirrors as if

completing an urgently due assignment.

Do you think he's sick, people at the mirrors discuss,

he looks like he has a past. Is he

an I-person or a P-person or, bipolar? He needs medication.

Perhaps he is already taking it, taking too much, perhaps injecting something.

He needs a course of treatment to become normal.

X. They Cut Off His Head

He must finish this song alone. He must enter that venue alone.

Voices boil, balloons and colored flags float, carnival floats pass through the center.

He finds an open space, places his black hat on the ground, takes out his clarinet.

He plays, now and then lowering his head to dance.

No one watches him, everyone waits

for the announcement of that historic result

a red banner declares: it will change the position of humanity, it will end human history

it is a universal word.

On the giant screen is the pinnacle of the Tower of Babel, the bishop

stands at the center of the completion ceremony, awaiting the placing of the final brick.

Everyone holds their breath watching the broadcast. The bishop trembles with a sheet of letter paper and reads out the universal word

silence, then sweeps through the crowd like a wave

people kneel, weep. They had not imagined

the word would be so cold, so vulgar. They had not imagined

humans were not blessed, but abandoned. They feel

utterly deceived. Their lives, rich or poor,

have been wasted. They are generic, humble, fixed, welded shut.

Then they notice him, nameless Orpheus

dancing by himself in the open space, as though he has not heard the desperate news.

Angry people step forward and shove him. He staggers, then continues dancing.

More people come, kick him, stamp him. He rolls in the center of the crowd.

Can't you be quiet?

Someone brings a machete and swings it through his neck.

They plant his head in the earth. Can you be quiet now?

Then chaos. Someone declares the word false. Someone claims

it is actually not one word, but two. Two become four. Four become sixteen.

People bring saws and cut into the foundation of Babel. Then torches, setting fires everywhere.

Look, madness too is a monotonous variation.

And the head of Orpheus pulses in the earth.

Now—he murmurs—try, with the music, to dance.

XI. His Ending

from the other side of the dance floor she comes

from the palm of the cat, the edge of the eraser, the down on the tip of a nose

from the tunnel's end she walks slowly

from the reverse of the hour hand she turns

from the beginning of gravity she rises

In tribute to Anne Carson, Wanyuan and Lindy Hop