Bio Note: Newly settled in Western Massachusetts, I am naturally thinking and writing about places I’m unlikely to see again as well as places Ive seen, especially if I saw them in my mind thanks to poetry.
If I would marry him, he promised, he’d take me to Knossos, where steamy Queen Phaedra was said to have dwelt. Her child, fathered by a bull, behaved so badly a maze was built to keep him in. From this labyrinth, adolescent Icarus flew and at first he had such fun that his waxen wings were undone by the pitiless sun and we all, thanks to Breughel the Belgian, saw him fall into the ocean just as my Mother saw me place in my confusion a tarpaulin over my wedding gown, so confused and uncool a bride was I. We split up soon, the groom and I. Meanwhile in Knossos, palace acrobats performed. Hippolytus the hero proved too virtuous for his own good (according to Racine) refusing the advances of the Queen. As for me, I never went to Knossos and won’t. I’m over eighy-five. No more will I see Macchu Pichu or any wonder of Peru. Rather, I embrace my fate, namely, to contain myself, (as one with scoliosis and transient strokes) within the bounds of Western Massachusetts.
©2022 Sarah White
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