After Eurydice

We’re eating greasy burgers in a cramped diner,
where the vinyl seat sticks to your skin
if you stay too long.

I bring up Orpheus and Eurydice,
how everyone talks about Orpheus’s mistake,
his grief and his tragic songs,
as if Eurydice wasn’t the one left behind in the underworld.

You wipe the corner of your mouth
with a crumpled paper napkin.
You tell me, you have a point
but it’s easier to follow the one who gets to tell
the story.

After the sun sets,
I watch you walk back to your car.
You look back once.
I stay where I am.
Someone always has to be Eurydice.

Zoha Kashif is a Pakistani-Canadian poet from Toronto. She is currently a college student studying English Literature and writing her poetry collection. When she isn't writing she can be found gardening or playing fetch with her dog at the park. Her work is featured/upcoming in Mosaic Lit Journal, A Few Words Magazine, and The Up And Coming Magazine.