Penelope's Sestina

Poetry - Third Place Tyler Olcese

Livermore, California, USA

Oh, oh, oh, my dear Heaven above hath no words that

Odysseus, I could call upon in describing my despair; there shall never be another in my heart. Only a silhouette now, always haunting me. For there is no home more desirous nor love sweeter than this home –when with you.

This face and figure, once beautiful, withered dry when you left. Pulled taut by the wind and ocean spray, Odysseus, my cheeks were once colored with gentle love and a soft, sun-drop smile. But now –alone –I comfort my drooping eyes and thinning hair; always repeating unto myself: do not despair, this face shall

never be equaled when your’s is returned unto me. Shall these soft dresses and amber beads console me? No. You would laugh at how they piled them on me. But always, my tempting promises were for our shared glory. Odysseus, Athena herself must have bathed me in ambrosial perfume, as I took such delight in that clever scheme, but our love does not compare unto their shining gold. Our love shone like sunlight on Poseidan’s calmest waves. Shall schemes hold these dogs at bay much longer, though? I passed three years weaving and unweaving a shroud for your father –until they caught me under the waning moon. Odysseus, purple-caped still? My hands spun my anger unto it. Always must heroes be pulled away by unfortunate causes? For always the hero is pulled from that path by some sweet talk of love. My mollusk-dyed web became a dog and fawn –look, Odysseus, and see the cape predicting the end of any who shall desire to lie in bed alongside what is mine; you. Out! Bitter jealousy, creeping through my veins! Forgive me, I

only desire my sister’s return so painfully and I wish for your’s even more. So much so that a dream always plagues my nights. Geese and eagles, feathers and blood; you might tell me it means we are closer unto reuniting, but my love deafens me from divine whispers. Those gates of horn shall never open; I continue crying behind doors of ivory. Odysseus, there is no one else I could grace with the words of love. May the gods always watch over us and see how a promise shall stay etched unto my very soul: only you, my dear Odysseus.