Marriage to the Minotaur
©Angela Goldsmith
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 unusual or strange I can smell a stench of sex and sweat Acrid, and 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 I know 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 Read more poetry by Angela Goldsmith @all_poetry https://allpoetry.com/18536820
