Minotaurs

I noticed Queen Pasiphae eyeing up the bulls,

well, you know what they say about her.

They were fine specimens:

clear-eyed and muscled, glossy haired, strong legged,

hooves stamping up the dust.

You’ve got to love a bull.

And those Greek boys -

full of fire and fear,

freshly arrived, bathed and oiled -

I’d heard them the night before

singing to their gods

in an olive grove.

So brave and certain their lives were about to change

in the ring

at the heart of our twisted city.

Of course I rose with the others,

my heart in my mouth

for the sweet-faced boy who fell in the dust,

watched his friend run out to tease the steaming beast away from him,

wanted this to be over and for them all to be safe

and laughing under the vines

drinking wine and forgetting their mothers

and the bulls

faraway

on a hill

watching sails out at sea

bringing the next challengers.