Athena

In the temple
men are
dreamers
There is a
repertoire
an attic
of conceit skill
a way to redeem
the myths of
vase painters

A flexible silver leaf
branch
bluish green
with gray
Owl-wise
yet pitiful as a
captive spider
impressed in disguise
& defeat of
all of my future
suitors

Atlas

I am tired
Desire rests in this rotted orchard
of sticks & brown snakes
every venomous apple

The architecture of
heaven is a mass grave
An absurd cartography of death
& three stout hearted
offspring

I’ve unearthed a mortal woman
a lost astronomer
a passion of geography &
released her into a swell of waves

I have conjured her kneeling
all head back & shoulders
pathetic & small

while I stand
colossal & rigid
bearing this weight

Narcissus: upon discovering the body of Echo

I want someone to
remove the unclothed
dim body

Sweep up frayed
skeletal shards
&
this gaunt ghost

I want wild mares
to neigh for me

Green nostril steeds
swarming &
striking
to release me

I want steel treads
&
not a soul to notice
the stepping

the mess
the crushed field

I want blood filled air
that I own