Nostos

NOSTOS

        I.

The tropes are never wholly wrong—

there is such thing as siren song. 

That said, the voices that you hear

are not desires but your fears. 

Do not tie yourself to the mast. 

They will not draw you off the path 

but to it, down straight 

to Hell, then through it.

        II. 

Odysseus swept the suitor’s

stench, the priest who swore

the devils made me do it, 

even the dozen maids who chit-

chat behind his back 

about the beggar’s rags. 

There was no wiggle room 

in his Shalom. 

Fire kissed the marble

white again, the warble 

of a swallow in the rafters

heralding he’s here, he’s here,

which he is—that is, the Master—

so very, very here,

if still invisible in his disguise,

or more, our blurry eyes.