Saturday 4 November 2017

If Asterion was a painter:


On his wall hangs
like a pause before a shout,
the dark oil painting
of the moment the mother saw the face
of her son the beast,
a leviathan that had risen
between her thighs,
nurtured by the god and her belly,
her womb wounded
by the thought that the beast found residence
when it should not

and in another room, Minos
paces not from nervousness
but because a pact with a god
always carries a hidden cost

and into the future
these two will spin a tale
while their son sinks into the stone
and awaits his fate as surely
as any oblivion.

No comments:

Post a Comment