Athena Talks to Her Therapist about Zeus
To hear my father tell it
I am his idea made
manifest.
The continuation of a thought he is still having.
He introduces me with an arm tight around my shoulders
and a tone that says
Behold this laurel I have grown.
Perhaps I should be grateful
he never sees me as a woman.
Not the way he sees other women as women.
Which is to say: as girls.
Which is to say: as barely more / rarely more
than cows
or slot machines.
Once
I lay down with my own snatched mortal
an awestruck youth tender and bruisable as an olive.
As I ran my tongue along his sinewed curves
I prayed for the vulgar piercing
to cancel out my virgin goddess destiny
my father’s daughter’s never-to-be-touched destiny
and rode my mount until the heat of our bodies
rose thick and pungent
as charry smoke from any sacrificial offal.
In their own fear
the Muses never include this part of the story.
~a.i.
[Image via]
Hi Alice!
I am so glad you linked me to this piece. I love the change in agency over the course of the piece, from the narrator opening with herself in relation to her father, to her own sexual identity (which even that cannot be extricated from the father in a way). I really appreciate the imagery of cows and slot machines as well, that is a particularly strong moment in a strong poem! Also I CANNOT get over that title. Amazing!
Thank you for writing this!
Shevaun
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!! That means a great deal, coming from you. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome! It is a great poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is BEAUTIFUL. Thanks for sharing!
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
LOVE. The poetry and the politics and the real stories living behind the stories only told all woven in one.
LikeLike
Thanks!!
LikeLike
This is a WONDERFUL piece. I love you.
LikeLike
THANK YOU! And I love you too. (You remember I came up with the genesis of this poem when I was visiting Portland?)
LikeLike