From Omphalos

Ten years of war, and seven more on Calypso’s island passed before Odysseus was released to continue home.

1.

Here’s wretched ease. The fish I catch, She lets me.

She humors me, my longings: flesh, to eat,

To hold, to know my own flesh by. My boy,

Unseen these years, beside this perfect sea

Years spent without a consequence defeat

The thing I was. Before I dreamed of Troy

I was an ordinary man a while—

I fought, I drank; in season plowed; wheat

           Grew for me; my horses foaled. But enjoy

My son— That prize gods stole. This dulling trial

Kills, boy.

2.