Poem: Minotaur

 

Minotaur

 

in the center

a pile of the worst horrors never told,

bloody coins, corrupted jewels,

devil flowers that none must ever take,

 

and yet always, again and again,

 

a dare of memory

wanders the million doors of dreams,

risking a ferocious stalker

who would devour every last morsel

of redolence.

 

only beauty

lives in the core without insanity.

only beauty understands

such dreadful power and

why it must be quarantined--

 

so the shabby werewolf believes,

that bloodiest guardian for the ugly job,

always a struggle not to be convinced

by what suffers its teeth.

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3/2/25 ... changed a line