Odyssey

 I am sprung up from dark soil

breeding and spreading like a vagabond

ripped from my roots,

a burnt-out husk of a man

 

Bent and bone-weary,

I huddle at the water’s shelving edge,

sea-god draining

the bowels of the sea to betray me.

 

Ship ringed like a crown

by endless wastes of sea,

wind ruffling in my wake,

bellying out my sails

 

Belly empty,

fed on nuts that root and roll in mud,

I offer you the cup—

drink the blood and tell the truth:

 

Yes, she sang to me,

honeyed voice dripping from her lips,

but loose the bounds that lash me

and I will sing myself home

 

life-breath blowing back his wrath.

Your eyes are the hour star,

gray as ash, gray as my hair

twenty years later, home.

Author's Note

ConCrit encouraged!