Penelope 2

Penelope 2

I, Penelope, am sick 

Of this ongoing pretenders circus

For the last three years 

I controlled them

By trickery it's true

Nightly unravelling 

My daily weaving

Of Laertes shroud

Until, yes, until

One of my slave girls betrayed me

When bedded by one of them

Rumours of Odysseus's death

Are rampant, the pretenders

Like wolves, circle around me 

Until now my son was my shield

Grown up, he is claiming his inheritance

And advise me to return to my father's abode

To get a second spouse

The only thing stopping him

To enforce his edict

Is the financial strain it would entail

I've sent messages and promises

Which I have no wish nor will to fulfill 

To each of the pretenders

In order to divide them.

But I am alone.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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