Suitors

Suitors, she calls them,

These ridiculous heroes and sons of divinity.

Like they’re something special if Zeus raped their moms. Plural.

Zeus makes me sick, tossing his thunderbolts about, becoming what will terrify a woman most so the stupid boys will be brave.

Sending Hermes year after year.

They’re the thieves.

These suitors fawn about me

Offering absurd flatteries more obvious

Than gilding a lily.They speak as if I am nothing more than petals on a stem,

waiting to be plucked and shoved into some ornate vase that tells another story.

These fools, these idiots pawing at the hem of my gown,

telling me of their worldly riches, how they will shower me with luxuries.

The only luxury I want is you.

I want your skin on mine,

my lips lost in yours,

your breath keeping me alive.

I want to leave this floral world of folly,

Descend to the true paradise,

resting in your embrace,

You, my sword becoming my shield

when the light creeps in,

showing how many times they’ve torn away my petals

for their pointless potions and perfumes,

Ripping away the fragile veils,

Desecrating my beauty,

Coveting my nectar.

Even the bees dare not make

honey from me, but these boys

Playing at being gods

Think they are worthy.

I call the North Wind to vanquish them.

Would that I were Daphne and could

become a tree, sink down through

my roots into you.