Atlas and the daughter of unknown origins*

My world revolves around you,
father,
you held the sky when I was born,
small goddess, I lay,
at your feet.
You cried and it was raining in my atmosphere,
I think you said I was lovely,
though my small ears could only hear
so far beyond the clouds.

I don't know what you've done,
some dreadful deed unrealised,
until I asked for you to kiss my cheeks
and you couldn't reach
so low.

I thought of you,
Atlas, Atlas,
protecting a face you'd never seen.
Stretching space into itself
so that I could breathe.
I thought of you,
Atlas,
when you didn't think of me.

I found Odysseus floating in the sea.

He looked like you,
he looked like Zeus and all his long-haired wives
and all their children too.
Odysseus the bravest,
the true.

(I loved him far too much,
before I knew what love could be,
a thing of claws and teeth).

Father, that man stole away
with all the bitter-sweetness of my name,

"I cannot do this anymore,"
Calypso, hide,
"I will tell them all you lied,"
Calypso, hide,
"you are a thing of shame."

Odysseus broke my heart,
Atlas missed the beat.