My mother-fucking Greek tragedy

Slowly rolling that boulder

Up Oedipus’s mother’s

Rounded belly

Contemplating time and how it is

Beautiful

Imperfect never and always on my side.

Before you get carried away

By innuendo

Watch your heels

Running in those stilettos

Blood red

Across the tarmac

Of the illusive

Leaves beneath my feet

Crunching in the fall

Of youthful yellow high-tops

Don’t trip

On the past and we

With sheathed swords

Laugh with me again

Now, we blend

We tie

Knots

Who would have thought

Not I.