Ariadne struck the mast
Enraged. She couldn’t sail, no
One had ever bothered to
Teach her, but the ship wouldn’t
Be still. She had awoken
To find Thesus dead, his crew
Dead, and at first she had felt
Relief. She had thought maybe
The drifting ship would take her
Back home, but soon, as the ship
Seemed to wobble beneath her
She realized the danger
She was in, and with her rage
Came the sorrow the poets
Remember. Two days later
The ship beached on a shade-choked
Black island. The sand, the soil
The flowers and the trees, the
Animals, even, all were
A deep, a mineral black
A black the Greeks couldn’t yet
Have manufactured, and there
The dead rose and disembarked
As Ariadne watched, they
Surrounded the ship. Some stood
In the water, and some kneeled
In the mud where the water
Met the sand, and they began
To peel from the hull a white
Vegetal husk that had formed
Soundlessly there, as the ship
Approached the shore. For three hours
They peeled the husk from the ship
And laid it in long, frayed strips
On the beach. They didn’t see
Ariadne, didn’t hear
Her, though she followed Thesus
Shouting, shoving him until
He and his crew had finished
And the ship itself seemed dead
From the strips, Thesus and his
Crew fashioned thin, box-like greaves
And chest plates, frail shields, and swords
Like toys. And then, with their hands
The dead men began digging
A hole to the underworld
Ariadne stopped shoving
Thesus. She turned to the sea
But the sea was still. She stepped
Toward the sea, but a fog
Rushed from beyond the shoreline
To her feet, and hardened, and
She couldn’t pierce it. She sat
Down, facing the hard fog, and
Sang to no one but herself
And was buried in the mud
The men piled behind themselves
Singing. But just then, enraged
By news of yet another
Infidelity, again
Resulting in a child, so
One more child, one more woman
She must hate, or risk wounding
Zeus’s vanity, Hera
Heard Ariadne’s voice in
The feathery knot of cries
And prayers, and songs that rises new
Every moment from the Earth
And tugged it loose, and cupped it
In her palm, and cupped her palm
Against her ear, and she sang
Ariadne’s song returned
Then, to Ariadne, in
The goddess’s voice and
With the goddess’s power
And Ariadne was raised
From the dirt by Hera’s voice
And carried to the other
Side of the world, where she was
Transformed into an ever
-Expanding country, too dis
-tant for Greek ships, a new nest
For the Sirens, who, despite
What the poets say, are male
And don’t sing, but shout prayers, and
Stretch their shores across the seas
By filling the seas with bones