Forgive me, great one: your name is unknown
to Cretans. We braved the brine’s tantrums
to free Megara from her foolish king,
and now I find you have finished him for us!
By ending the siege, you have saved the lives
of many Cretans. I’m Minos, their king.
Our gratitude is too holy
for the sanguine language of sacrifice.
But if my men can amuse you with slaughter,
let our spears publish our piety.
One pair of eyes peered at Minos
while the other peered at his portraitist.
The right mouth spoke: I’ll make plenty
of death, Minos: muzzle your spears.
But you’ll take Scylla to your scabby island,
and you’ll marry her, and you’ll make her think
you love her well. If I learn you haven’t
followed my orders, your orange scalp
will flare, a pendant on this purple lock.
The lock hadn’t left off dripping
as the new god came near the kneeler
and whispered, Doorway is what you will call me.
His maker rejoiced when he jumped atop
the ringing stones. Righteous Minos
married Scylla and commanded the conquered
to bury their sobs and bang their shields
in lieu of timbrels. What little wine
remained in Megara regaled the Cretans,
truculent witnesses to a traitor’s wedding
downwind from her father’s perfunctory pyre.
While his men feasted, Minos, whose tongue
refused any amphora’s aid,
told them how vast his victory was.
Then Minos gave Megara new laws—
the most important: appease the new god.
He commanded his captains to cut the ropes
and his oarsmen to bring the brazen navy
homeward to Crete. They hurried away
before Minos could deflower Scylla.
The billows, loving polygamy,
made the voyage mild and quick.
When he reached home, a hundred bulls
bloodied altars bracketing the shore
to fulfill a vow to his father, Zeus.
When Boreas brought bull smoke to Knossos,
Pasiphaë was sitting in her window,
the Minotaur’s terse horns
chafing her shoulders. The chariot,
an extra load: the lean arms crossed
beneath his ribcage. She recognized
his triumph’s motto: tit for tat.
Megaran spoils garnished the palace,
but the family disgrace kept growing despite them:
the queen’s filthy fornication
was palpable: the binary form,
the misbegotten, the monster she loved.