by Janet Hanna
I sang the eternal song of desire
And made him rich with my gift.
I sweetened his days with crumbcakes and wine.
At night, I made him forget
His barren, rock-strewn Ithaca.
Who breaks the Jungian code of silence is punished.
My head is shaved,
My man torn from me,
My mantle, which you willed me, shredded and cursed.
I pay for your maleness, Zeus, with my womb.