Grab the bull by the horns
He suggested, as if this
Is something diurnal and
Straightforward, as though I
Lived with the inventive
Umayyad Caliph of Cordoba,
Or am I Pasiphaë’s consort,
Or, worse, Telephassa’s daughter
Taming the many-headed lusts
Of Zeus which left her grieving
Parents distraught and devoid
Of laughter as long as their
Unenviable lives uncoiled, on
Carthaginian shorelines, just
Like the parents of Meredith
Of Kent, and Georgia.

Moreover, I am easily misled,
And being a novice it threw
Me off, once, twice, twenty
Seven times and stamped its
Great and disdainful hooves
And mauled me as if I might
Be worthy of plague and smite,
With deliberate aforethought,
Until you could no longer tell
What was my pallid skin
And what were contusions,
And that, more or less,
(As I lay in muddy pools
Molten with my blood unspooled)
Resembled the rest of my life.

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