Bernard Page 2
      still hearing the echoes of the weeping that come
    from the maze's mouth, where the others cower,
       crowd, and wait
    their turn in the labyrinth, their death duel with the

The line tugs. Where does it go? It slackens again~who
   bound it
to the one Greek they promised would kill that abortion,
   the bull-man~

  as if I had no soul, no mind, no heart, no memory
  of happiness under the sun's gaze, and only howl and
  bucking my horns on the rocks in an agony of memory
  of those few weeks I knew the light and warmth of day.

It tugs again, and thrums~he is looking for me, this
    with his smooth face, his eyes shining with bald terror,
imagining me~one hand trembling on the rock face, the
    sweating at the end of the thread.

                                            The thread! it may lead
                   back to the maze's entrance, escape
          out of this stinking darkness into the air and sun,

the immensity of light and breath of cloud, the sweet
the high sky above me~could it?
                                  Of course, it could!
                                                      Someone~a lover?