The Minotaur’s Mother

The Minotaur’s Mother

She cradled sin to her chest
Feeling his velvet nose
Investigate the folds
That covered her swollen breast.

He grunted, hungry and impatient
Lips pulled back from tiny teeth,
Exposing the need beneath
That licked and longed for the ancient.

Cradling her wriggling son,
Shrugging her shawl
Before the boy thought to bray or bawl,
Remembering again what she’d done.

Thinking of the hollow cow,
The architect did conspire
To assuage her violating desire,
Breaking the natural vow.

Burdened forever, her shame to bear
Wondering if the sea is salted with women’s tears
Or darkened by the depths of women’s fears.
After all, Justice is what men declare.

She questioned if death would forgive
Her the vessel of another’s guilt
That caused the cow to be built
Or if forever more this curse would live.

She worried about the child’s hunger
How he nibbled and bit her skin,
Already tight and stretched too thin,
But what good is it to wonder?

Because for now he is enough.
So she hums a low, soothing song
Admiring the horns that see him strong,
Her son, her beast, beyond rebuff.

Willfully pushing aside the looming dread
The images of the bloodied dead,
Fearing the day this dream will end.
Knowing that all boys turn into men.

And yet?

Who weeps for her?
Who will weep for the Minotaur’s Mother?

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