Gods in Suburbia: Athena

When you look upon me, I wither

shrink from the hard insistence of your gaze—

unblinking as an owl

pierced by a blade of judgment

in your presence I babble

words flow from my throat in shallow, breathless waves

or get caught there, interrupted, half-formed

my tongue turned to stone

my little poems and melodies

the precious secrets of my life

seem the whimsical play of butterflies

whose fanciful, amber wings disintegrate with the slightest touch

or the frivolous vanity of irises—

useless beauties, slender maidens of pearl and indigo,

that collapse with the breeze,

bowing obsequiously in the rain

No, you are a woman of substance

a warrior

grounded in soil

with a mind to be reckoned with

only the bravest adversaries dare confront you

we cower in your shadow

obey your orders without question

you lead us—our cold mother, our choleric queen

without you we scatter like the erratic fluff of dandelions

Born not from your mother’s womb

but from your father’s head

you have no patience for the world of women

polite, soft on the outside sweet to the tongue,

yet at the core conniving and sour

you prefer the directness of battle

to make a clean kill

to defeat your enemy or perish

a keen strategist

you peer into my soul, like down a well

and find it lacking water, substance

I am left with a hot, blazing wound

penetrated by your sharp word

yet beware—

lest your allies desert you,

betray you in the hour of your need,

lest you inadvertently murder your friend

with the cruel accuracy

of your merciless axe

Honorable Mention, Poetry Society of Virginia 2022 Contest, Bess Gresham Memorial