A Trojan priestess, captured by Agamemnon and carried to Argos as his slave and mistress, she was Apollo’s lover. He gave her the gift of true prophecy, but when she refused to bear him a child, he punished her by making all around her disbelieve the truth of her predictions.
no worse curse!
there’s not,
I thought;
know the truth
of the future
but
N
E
V
E
R
be believed?
she bargained with Apollo
for sex
then refused him
that never goes well,
denying a god.
maybe this will teach her
many of us carry –
a similar curse
not the knowledge of the future
(no one could bear that)
rather, the curse of not believing the truth
I say carry – giving it the burden of weight
but more like an empty bucket
waiting to be filled
wanting the weight
of the necessary.
love me
need me
want me
appreciate me
say I’m good enough
Please, just say I’m good enough.
Please.
my curse?
cassandra in reverse.
turns out, no need to plead.
the truth is there.
waiting.
pouring into my bucket
gallons by the second
firehose to the face
The need of the necessary is not the curse
we need what we need, after all.
Maslow gets it.
the curse
is the bucket
that won’t
hold
water.
defying atrophy 