Marriage to the Minotaur

As I construct a white wall

A labyrinth of linen, draped

Boil-washed and bleached to the bone

Pure as an eggshell

You appear outside

I am shocked to see you in my domain

I can only see your antlered outline

Your horned head

From behind the filmy sheath

You did not come home last night

But that is not strange

I can smell a stench of sex and sweat

Acrid, asinine on your clothes slung

Crumpled and crooked on your bulwark frame

Out of your rancid-rotted mouth

Saunters some febrile falsehood

That snaps at my well-seasoned flesh

And confirms that you wish to devour me whole

The stale booze makes you snort like boorish-beast

A small clout of breath puckers the cloth

Lead- headed and stubbornly sore

The morning after

And you are feeling fragile-sorry for yourself

One of your antlers briefly hooks a sheet

You shake it off

Irritated, anger flashes like hellfire in your irascible-eye

Scorn poured on me

From your bottle-mouth

Foul and feral derision

I am not perfect,

You say that is my fault

A part of my design

As you fiercely flash at me your fiendish affront

You hurl curses and blame at me

I carry on with my chores in silence

I brush back layers of hair from my fettered-face

Whiplash from the wind

Sears my red-rimmed, unslept eyes

Rinsing them with balm

You stand there watching me

Bull-headed and obdurate

Insatiable in your lust to consume fresh meat

And when I am gone you will simply move on to the next one