the minotaur of time

Isabella di Angelo, Greece

the stratosphere, fine wood
with great craftsmanship folded
‘round the bud of the sun;
either it’s romeo and juliet,
achilles and patroclus, you and i:
our vague shapes’ve all leaned over
the gilded mantelpiece of the stars

for down under, in the peat of the aztecs
and from the ashes of the library of alexandria
a new building springs out; then a city; then music;
and the wind himself tremors at the first post-natal cry
and each hurricane a flower bent backwards suckling
at the milk of the sun

‘tis the violent florescence of a firework
the momentary lapse of the eye
back to a vine of wilted artwork
all a planetary nebula guarded by clocks and time
and you, my dear delilah,
a hoya with your veins in the dirt
fenced by the white dwarves on your bronze rings and your waist piece,
there, catching life like catching ablaze in the well

and as the stars have gone out through the millennia
and the candles in churches’ve wiped away
as the names of gods’ve washed off of memory
and no one knows of the oaths in extinct languages made
and still kept under blankets of dirt in ancient twin graves,
the apple pit stole away your youth too one day,
time spread your dust upon the buds of this maze

and me, the hungry minotaur
still chasing winds through time
still eating girls, peel off their flesh
to find your bud of light

‘tis your violent florescence of a firework
that breaks the winds to shine
that left me a blind man; a vagabond;
the minotaur of time

Isabella is a Greek musician, actress and writer. She attended drama school from 2017-2021, and has studied piano, guitar, musical composition and operatic singing. He loves to experiment, having written poetry, lyrics, screenplays, theatre scripts, librettos, fantasy books and fairytales in Greek, English and French. She loves gardening and animals, and currently lives in Athens with her dog and two cats.