The Minotaur Speaks

The queen lay in the hollow

of a wooden cow so my father

would mount her, his white hide

glistening like a raw moon.

To love is to look up, up, up.

She named me Asterius,

the starry one. When the king

heard my birth cry, he raised

black curtains to every window

in Crete. He began to build.

My father was led away by a rope

around his neck. My mother

gave me the apple of her breast,

and I bit it off. To love is to feed

and feed again. My room

has thirty-two walls, no doors,

no chair, no light, no mirror.

I touch a face that is leather

and horns and mine, mine, mine.

They say this man has flaxen hair,

a mouth so fine the gods

beg him to speak. They say

my death will make him

a hero. Everyone loves a hero,

but a hero only loves you

until he reaches the next island.

This is my only island. To love

is to unwind the long thread

of your heart and, at the end, tie

a noose. Love, come and get me.