The Girl from Crete by Tyler Wood


The thread of blood trickled

down the scales of the snake goddess.

Her labyrinth penetrated by love

and loss. Eyes follow along the walls

in sea-foam shade. The Minotaur walks

alone. Her purist areas persist

in memory. Alone she sits, back thrust

upon her. Her thread makes him flee.

It reasserts her purity, and yet,

demonizes her nakedness.


His shadow follows him across the sky.

At the edge of the inevitable cliff;

robes in the wind, bland colors,

low light, blue sky with sharp cloud.

To him, her name an epithet. Alone

in the Piazza. Long shadows and backs.

Silk thread one direction, blood trail the other.


As he left she slept with hand on stomach;

crying that won't come on her mind.

Her hand bloodied and cracked, imitating

life. She pulls on her pubescent hair.


She boarded a ship carrying trees and arrows

to leave the island of her birth.