Iphigenia
by Gail
A woman young and therefore property,
daughter to a king whose power
was his sharp-edged wine and bread.
She journeys obediently to Aulis,
head bowed to hide her joyous face
from the laden mules and guards;
dreaming of the great Achilles unarmoured
and learning the reasons for the maidens' giggles;
of inspecting the woven linens,
mistress of her own hearth at last.
Her father does not come to welcome her
or sacrifice to celebrate her safe arrival,
sends men to bring her to a small tent.
She dons her embroidered robes,
rises to follow the proper messenger.
At the altar the obsidian throws back
the broken light to Zeus the Father's sky,
mocks her with its stark knowledge.
The king of Mycenae cries out
to the offended goddess,
meets his daughter's eyes
as she is stretched over the old stone.
The paid-for wind smells of roses.
