All right. Since I am awake, I consider it still International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day, which otherwise I will completely have missed. The good news is, I just finished a poem.

Phersu

They teased us when we married,
the stonecutter and the daughter of auguries—
Charun and Vanth. The hammer I swung
into skulls of tufa and travertine,
her huntress' step, suddenly turning
as if she beckoned back a soul to Phersipnai,
we wore the names lightly, the lines of our days
already in the hand of other gods.
The laws of Tarchies, swan-winged Turan,
Thesan cradling slain Memnun in her arms
was not more piercing than her eyes
like laurel leaves, the plaited coronal of her hair
black as bucchero in the reflected sun.
No cast of Tinia's, no liver or levinbolt
could split us. We held to one another
like pole-star and ploughman, mundus and map—
the crossing of our shadows. The years
nailed home. In the tomb where she rests
among garlands and funeral games,
panthers guard her, twin lionesses pace
a rack of red-dashed ivy, dappled like fawns,
an aulos in a boy's fixed fingers plays
melodies only the dead can hear.
As in life, she lifts a hand to me,
terra-cotta in the dark of my closed eyes,
the solid compass of the heavens overhead.
Out of reach, one of my guides is waiting.
The death I will greet gladly wears her face.

It had originally a parenthetical subtitle, "Aranth and Śatna, Velathri 483 BCE," but I am not sure what the details add past the fun I had researching personal names. Let me know if you feel strongly about it either way. Otherwise, goodnight. And enjoy!