The Best for Last


The gods must have been saving you,
maybe because, of all the goddesses,
 
you’re the only one who is all
of them myths in one, a recipe
 
for perfection: Aphrodite for beauty:
Roman nose, Mona Lisa lips, Gauguin
 
tanned and breasted; Rhea
for the motherhood of our child;
 
Selene, for the moon of your poetry,
and Mnemosyne, mother of The Muses; 
 
Hestia of hearth and home (World Famous
Mac ‘n Cheese and Grilled Cheese
 
Sandwiches).  Even
Atalanta, amazing Akron marathon runner.
 
A Galatea, as if I ordered you online
to my specifications, or summoned you up
 
from the dreamiest of my dreams,
your face hovering above mine, raven
 
ringlets all round. 
But mostly Penelope
 
because you’ve waited all my life
for me to come home, finally,
 
to you.