As we drove along the Amalfi Coast, the guide told us the mythological story of the Sirens. My daughter took a photo out the window of the Sirens’ islands.
Later I wrote this poem remembering the travails of Odysseus.
The melodious Sirens’ song
lured Odysseus
begging to be untied from
the mast.
Even the roaring sea’s
voice whispered in
comparison.
They sang honeyed
love songs to starving
sailors, longing for a woman’s
touch, a kiss, ecstasy.
With knife claws, they
ripped them asunder,
crunching bones, blood
erupting.
Satiated, they sang,
eternal, etherial, deceptive.
Several days later at a shop in Sorrento, while my daughter was looking for a medusa cameo, the owner, a cameo artist, brought out Siren cameos. He insisted the Siren’s have been terribly misunderstood. I wanted clarification but unfortunately other customers appeared and I remain mystified.
writingontherim 