Monday, May 23, 2011
At my birth, they say, the midwife
fainted at the sight of me.
Sweet mother, Pasiphaë, when you crouched
in the hot dust waiting for the white bull
to part your welcoming thighs, did you dream
then, what monster might be spawned
from your improbable lust?
Asking nothing, I have accepted what was given—
not human enough to spare the lives men sent me,
nor beast enough to remember them without shame.
If I did not exist, it would be necessary to invent me.
Mother. Stepfather. Sister. All who should have loved me
have betrayed me. Only Theseus has been faithful
to the destiny that binds us close as brothers.
Tonight I hear the echo of his footfall through the labyrinth.
I roar his name.
The thread unwinds.
First published in Paradox: The Magazine of Historical and Speculative Fiction, Issue #10, 2006.
Posted by Eileen Kernaghan at 6:46 PM