Medea II / Myth

Hated you for leaving when things got
good. Hated you for making it
bull-fucking tough. You left me high:
I am Icarus catching wax off my

wings. I am Pasiphäe partitioned
in the labyrinth of lust. Daedalus
dangles his string, and you are no one
to be seen. You’re a paltry, picked-

over thing. A cyclops with two eyes
green: one patched to the past, the other fixed
to a future that will not be. You did not

see me. I was the spear and anchor of your
monodic scheme. My anger was your succor.
My ichor runneth over the dead of us.