When I gave Theseus the ball of golden string
to find his way through the Labyrinth,
it was also to find his way back to my arms.
I held the key to the maze, and he
was the key to unlock my prison.
I needed to escape my insane mother,
a despicable father,
and the half bull, my brother.
Such a dysfunctional family
only Theseus’s sword could cure it.
Son of Poseidon and a grand-daughter of Zeus,
when we kissed, passion stabbed through us
like a trident. Sailing out of the harbor at Knossos,
Theseus had his prizes: my brother’s head
wrapped in the white sail, fame
running wild through his brain—
charging like the Minotaur,
and me, who would do anything for him.
After the party at Naxos,
we spent the night entwined,
and while I drifted deep in sleep
he left with the tide. On this beach, I weep,
a princess of Crete, not to be taken
to Athens and hailed as their next queen,
not even paraded as plundered treasure.
Look how the black sail billows like his ego.
