“Penelope Looks Back”

Penelope Looks Back

You know, I thought you were a fool,
and if I were lovely and clever,

I wouldn’t wait, idle behind shrouds
while my probably dead, definitely faithless,
irresponsible egomaniacal selfish manchild husband
goads vengeful gods and gawks at sirens.

Late night, I would go
toward a swaying ship of my own,
tiptoe around suitors’ bodies holding my breath, rage
against these wild dogs squatting in my house, rage
against their savage hunger, rage overpowered
by the threat to quiet flesh,

remember this threat
is nothing new.

Outside, I would lope
toward water, taste adventure
in the sea breeze, salt tongued bitter
familiar as yearning. I’ll kick through heavy sand,

watch the dark waves pull me
toward a grand and inconceivable somewhere,

anywhere at all. And then,
I’ll feel the wrench

of babbling child,
aging father

binding me
to shore.

[Read Chapter 16’s interview with Jenny Qi here.]

Tagged: Book Excerpt, Poetry