Ariadne (Postscript)

The story of my marriage is all bunk,
          though Titian paints it best: the hunky god,
his parade of horny drunks and goat boys
          come to fetch me. Truth be told, I liked him,

that god, in spite of how I lost myself.
          Such bombast for a simple girl from Crete.
Rumors of my death are also too easy
          —happy endings were not my specialty

so Bacchus spun some stars? Gibberish.
          Here's how it really went: I did it myself
swimming with a rock strapped to my waist.
          Forgive me such an operatic end.

The language I heard was never my own.
          I was groped at the market; I endured
the jealousy of village women.
          And always some man or bull ready to rut.

Finches and stray dogs were my companions,
          the only things that would not flee from me.
When I drift back home at last from Naxos
          I'll fetch the stone that weighed me back to life.

Copyright © 2007 Christopher Bakken All rights reserved
from Goat Funeral
The Sheep Meadow Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission