Rasputin 

allow me to mourn the loss

of all that I have known and all

that I could have known.

stinging eyes and wet lashes,

circling around a drain like a whirling

dervish;

without the hand of Athena, I, too, 

have turned to the Styx–

dipping my fingers in to grasp some 

meaning and maybe

a body.

-it continues