Wide-Eyed, Sure, Fella—But Maybe I Care More
right now about reproaching than some dicey   
     rapprochement. Watch out. My name means Ship 
     -burner. I’ve scanned the humblebrag sheet [a man 
     in the fool future will claim I composed it]: no word 
of keeping your buh-bye promise, worshipping me
     as a goddess, once you’re home. Not that I’ll be 
     un-thought of after arrows pierce windpipes & blood 
     weds blood on that feast hall floor. When you spill to your wife 

[enchantress, sirens, randy nymph], you’ll skip 
     Nausikaa. Proof enough. Yep, let this bogus 
     goddess foretell. Your Ithaka’s pillaged, like
a fat nation after an election stolen—
     only, the stupid long war came first. You bet
     I’ll marry. Not you. Some man not made of words.  

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