Boiling the bastard put an end to it.
Now let the Cretans take their fleet
and piss off home. You won’t get
Minos’ prize for fancy threadwork now
but then he didn’t collect your head
– for all your needling.
You pull such tricks on me
I’ll have your arms torn off.
Now the wide Aegean
knows how smart you are
do you feel better?
You’d better smarten up. I won’t
work on your vanity as Minos did.
I don’t like killing guests but I won’t
take threats at home. That’s finished.
Now you. Minos didn’t give a fuck
who you’d killed, saw just the insecurity
that mothered your inventions;
worked on that
which backfired nicely as your
lust for admiration got you
pandering to his queen.
You’re smarting from that folly.
No I didn’t buy that featherweight
story of your flight from the island
bearing your son‘s body
in arms you’d fastened feathers to.
And don’t think anyone else did.
Another slap for Minos.
I suppose you hadn’t seen that
spreading blatant lies implied
your covering for his queen.
You might as well have said straight off
she helped you out of Crete.
No wonder he came after you
with an intricate puzzle
and a pike to put your head on.
Put your brains on this.
