Jocasta, mother to Oedipus

With a mind of passion,

Jocasta fled to the bedroom

that she shared with him

who was both

her husband

and her child.

She was the prey,

offered up for marriage

when he had solved the Sphinx's riddle.

From a silk scarf 

she crafted a noose; 

wrapped it around the chandelier

with a chair; and

stepped towards the heavens.

Her dangled body knocked over the stool.

Black spots appeared in her vision, 

but the dark soothed her, 

embraced her, 

like he had never done before.

A door slammed open

Hoarse shouts from him, 

Her husband—no, her child

who she had given away for

the good of the kingdom,

but whose cursed existence

continued to ruin.

He pulled the knot from the fixture,

her body, a heavy weight,

collapsing.

He took the pin from her:

Gold,

a flame. 

His hand massacred his eyes and

blood fell.

Like rain.

Like hail.

He would see no more. 

His spirit darkened

forever.

He had polluted

generations

and generations,

and the woman in agony, 

as she lay

Would dream of misery...