How did she bear it, watching him
leave her, choosing to take his chances
against Poseidon over lording her bed?
Did she gaze out at his diminishing form until
he was gone? How did she
silence the internal screaming,
dull the poignancy of loss?
Did she turn from her life,
moored away from the world
on her island, and retreat to memory,
live in past episodes of fulfillment:
the circle of his arms, wetness of their mouths,
steel of his thighs collapsing
atop her and inside her? How did she
survive the absence of the satisfying
weight of him? What else could
hope to compare? And how did her heart,
left destitute in the end,
survive losing him
after years of keeping him captive,
quietly betraying her own
need to be chosen? Did her
desire for him eventually
die of starvation,
or does it continue to gnaw on her?
If we listen, we can hear her,
still suffering
for the sake of his kingdom and family.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Keep reading
More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Let's Don't Do This
"I just can't do this anymore..." "Do what?" What can't you do? Put gas in your own car? I swear to God you make me take care of everything, don't you? You know I'm on my way to work right now but that never stops you from bothering me, does it?"
By Shirley Belk7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.