Friday, 26 July 2013


I stand in the bedroom, sweatless,
admit to the dagger,
the rage and the kids
who looked like you; had the eye
of the cool Aegean
with Argonaut bravado and your sticky blood
boiling their little black hearts.
My wriggling babies.
I taught them to gnaw on the blade
til their little throats roared
like mad devils, howling, my lullabied young.
Your sins nailed clean through their tongue.

But I was once young,
a charming girl, head over claws
in love with you—
protective, faithful
as any good angel, my Colchis light
bleaching a brother’s bones,
you could say I became obsessed.
I had you possessed
but Corinth tore us apart.

Still, I can’t resist revenge,
death knell shaking the house
to its dead foundations,
the children’s gasping surprise;
oh, the look in your eyes
when you found them, coiled
like little white worms;
a gorgon’s pale coiffure perhaps.
She may be princess
but I am a queen,
monster maternal,
with blood in my breasts
and a glint in my milkwhite eye.
Revenge is a kick in the womb.