“Ariadne Sends a Message”

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Now that our tasty liaison is over,
the monster slaughtered, the palace going under,
the black-draped ships embarked,
and I’m stuck on this feckless
island with a dipsomaniac
in lion skins, and you’ve sailed off to do your father
and pretend it was an accident, like the hypocrite you are

I might as well tell you: the minotaur
was my friend. Or not friend. More
like an associate. I’d go in there
through the labyrinth, which I knew
in the dark, luckily,
because it was always dark,
holding on to my silver thread,
and consult him about things.

What thing? you wonder.
You know—the future,
the death of kinds, the meanings
of snakeskins and birds’ intestines.
His answers were exact,
Though muffled.

In return I brought him morsels. Youths with edged weapons
and grandiose plans, like you.
I stood on the far side of the room,
steering clear of the horns.
He could get our of hand
and was prone to tantrums.

In the food fights, he always won,
and would have won
against you too, if I hadn’t cheated.
I spiked the wine, what else?

I thought I was trading
prophecy for love. Bad choice.
But I’ve got news for you:
You’ve made a bad choice too.

_________________________

From Paper Boat: New and Selected Poems 1961 – 2023. Used with permission of the publisher, Knopf. Copyright 2024 by Margaret Atwood.