by Mailande P. DeWitt

Athena, Athena, won’t you hear how
hard I will cry as my fingertips rip away
from your gild tipped statue, leaving
behind wisps of my soul.
Hold my hand as he takes me,
wipe the tears from my cheeks,
Apollo gave up on me years ago.
I will raise my green eyes to the sun
and breathe the sea air, listen to the 
wound of his laughter as waves beat
against my broken heart.
Athena, oh, Athena, you know
she will murder me has he will be,
kiss my forehead gently, I will 
quietly depart.
My mind runs a thousand miles
a moment, my heart flutters 
inside my ribcage,
Send my regards to my incautious 
brother, forgive me for my
demented rage.