by his urgency: the uneven raked joints seamed
his palms with blood till out of breath he fell
right on the lyre and cracked his courtship’s knell.
The man was nothing now to Phaedra, who
feared to believe what her eyes found true.
Why do you come back, Daddy? What went wrong?
I doubted that your funeral was strong
enough to bear you to the western isles.
Daddy, what did we do wrong? Are the piles
of jewels we raised around the larnax too
small, or do you feel your crown askew
or slipping on your golden bust?
Or does the larnax hold Megaran dust
instead of your right ash? You look so white!
Did you float home and feel the fishes bite?
You look so tired! I’ll get my maids to clean
you up and bring some beef. You’re not as lean
as I’d expect, but I can see that look
that used to frighten us when your slaves took
your litter down the gilded banquet hall.
No, don’t come closer! I’m afraid you’ll fall.
Let me get mother—a hidden kidney gushed,
filling his fist with lamb’s blood as he brushed
past her to rubricate the parapet
with Ariadne’s glyph. Her counterfeit
father spun his dripping finger east
and pointed at a black slab that released
one chamber from the bright monotony
of lamps aping the queen’s paternity.
It seemed he couldn’t speak, but Phaedra knew
exactly what he wanted. She withdrew
all her pretended tenderness and ran
out of the garden. She’d never had to plan
her next move with much care, but this time she
couldn’t trade diffidence for destiny.