Athena

Athena

Possibly the furthest thing from those
tired metaphors which arose
from Poseidon’s realm like a glistening cliché.

Wrought from grey matter rather than sea foam,
her heart was steel, her eyes were stone.
Her mind a machine beyond even Daedalus.

She was my future’s architect:
thought-afterthought, cause and effect
our love was the obvious solution.

Loving her was common sense.
And were I but just half as dense
Perhaps I would have fit into her blueprints.

She wove together all my dreams,
and mended me at all my seams.
Had I an oracle’s prophecy,
Or Eros’ arrows lent to me,
Or slain a beast to show my love,
Or golden apples from above,
Or an aiding Aegis to raise
to fend off her petrifying gaze,
Or divine answer to my pleas
it would have turned out differently.

Alas this is not Ancient Greece
So perhaps I’ll make my peace.