Knossos, the Bronze Age palatial estate on Crete the Minoan hub at the time of Theseus, Minos, the Labyrinth, Ariadne; site of betrayal and betrothal, island prison to Icarus... and home to the Minotaur.
A wick of string in one pocket, a short
Dagger in the other. It is noon on Crete,
And the wind cannot blow, or if it will,
Sighs through the interwoven limbs, tracing
The course of the hedge in the way of a novice
Lover, bending, turning, forced by its own
Momentum around corners opposite to its
Intentions. Reaching a wall, it dissipates
Like hot breath into hair. Inside, perhaps
In the center, perhaps stalking those who
Entered first, the great beast rattles its horns.
Twin shadows, oozing down from overhead,
Are those of giant eagles with waxen wings.
They laugh: the labyrinth is easy from above.
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