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.