LAMENT OF PENELOPE

Your hero so human
yet always suggestive
not forgetting in silence
of the gods to bereave
in the gift of a lotus flower
as an enchanted chimera
from another journey
still hid on a shelf
of the tent's wall.

You should praise yourself
in your labor of sighs
when he took off
for the islands
not javelined into exile
free from your watchful eyes.

It may seem terrible
as the riddle of your life
or even fraud or blasphemy
as a wise wife not to grab onto
or be bothered by gossip
by bedroom whispers
on the country's lips
with any more of this business
of this constant boredom
it's no giant sorrow
to be suddenly amazed
when dusty clouds
on the horizon
will raise Ulysses up tomorrow
in a lament for your freedom.