The Silent Whispering of Io

Fri, 08/23/2019 - 10:21 -- cianja

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.



When the door clashes


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.



not to rescue me,

but to rescue himself.

He turns me to a pale calf.

Makes me wordless,

and worthless,

and he gives me,


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.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741