ariadne on the sewing machine
This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.
the day the sun is out in full force
ariadne sits down at her sewing machine
at a long table
across from apollo
who sits at his typewriter
staring at a blank page
some days (when she's bored
ariadne takes a shift or two
from atropos
but not today
today she sews a twisted labyrinth
for the minds of men
its walls richly decorated
rosemary and pansies
fennel and columbine
sure enough
the stonemasons among her visitors
might ask
1. are walls not built
but sewn
2. must one use bricks and mortar
not thread
but ariadne has her task
(ради всего святого
мотрезор
she makes the passageways needle thin
uterine in their design
she makes the twists and turns fast
to ensure her guests' memories last
she dances and weaves
and leaves a skein in the very middle
then wends her way back to the entrance
(funny how often the word's mispronounced
ariadne pays minnie tower
two hundred and fifty five dollars
that minnie will tuck away in her adidas sweatpants
with time
ariadne knows
minnie will soon forget her threaded brows
her afternoon cigarette breaks and complaints
about the kids
given sufficient time and wine
she'll become
the monster of this brilliant maze
that ariadne wants
and needs
raising her eyes from her work
ariadne watches apollo feed a new sheet
to his typing machine
next (when it's safe
she takes out her phone
and texts curlyhair'd theseus