is the underworld, also a prefix
to prefigure damnation atop of your noun:
dislike, disquiet, distance—
whatever’s apart and unlovingly weird.
Down in Dis, sinners get whipped
and greedy guys can never reach grapes.
The boss either has a tail or a wife
who’s in charge of the Spring.
Like all hells, Dis doesn’t make sense,
a place full of shades that you can reach
from a cave in Thebes. Or maybe
you just have to wish
on the wrong star and fall down,
keep falling, falling, falling, falling, thump
and there you are, distraught, distempered.
Disentangling yourself from your wings.