Tangled sheets,

sweat stains.

The body of a god

streched out before me.

He promised me everything,

all of him, 

and I have it.

But still,

he leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

 

Because, even on a good night,

he still tastes like her.

And I remember that

I am nothing.

 

So,

When the door clashes

open

like a bolt of lightning

and dread rolls

across Zeus' face 

like rumbling thunder,

I do not struggle 

against the harsh hand 

pushing me into

the empty closet,

pushing me into

the darkness,

pushing me away.

 

Proud and puffed

like a peacock,

as jealous as

a hungry hound,

 she over takes the room.

 

I envy her.

 

But even in my cowering

my naked hiding

she senses me,

smells my lingering scent,

sees my fingerprints

across her hubands body.

Her hands reach,

grabbing greedily 

at the door handels,

reaching to reveal me 

with the cruel sort of delight

that only comes

from deep set pain.

 

But Zeus,

my shameful lover,

reaches out,

to rescue me.

 

No,

not to rescue me,

but to rescue himself.

He turns me to a pale calf.

Makes me wordless,

and worthless,

and he gives me,

willingly 

to those poison hands.

 

And she takes me,

not as the gift he promised,

but as a trophy,

a glutinous portion of the spoils.

She watches with eyes 

of hot coal,

that burn through my false skin.

She puts with her other prizes.

 

And Zeus,

Zeus moves past.

Takes another lover.

Leaves my desecrated remains

on the pyre of Hera.