INTERDICTION

For her house leads down to death and her paths to the spirits of the dead. None who go to her return or attain the paths of life.
Proverbs 2: 18-19

Ha, you haven't met her - she's like Skylla
times ten.
An immortal devastation
a wrought evil
crafty, crafted from the shattered reputations
of old flames, younger brothers, and good friends
everywhere
there is no nightmare or chaos
formed by imagination or bounded by language
that gives expression
to the brevity of her goodness.
Did you catch that? I said
GET OUT OF TOWN -
there is no fighting her. Don't be a fool,
don't trust your
upbringing or your love
of honor or virtue or the-girl-back-home.
Illiadic bravado will get you exactly where
she wants you -
tethered to the mast and raving mad.
Trust me, all that avails is flight.
So flee. I can't believe you're asking this
or I'm answering. It's not like your some holy monk, not with that physique. What's the matter, don't your eyes take in
the deadly shore, pretty bluntly
strewn with the bones of those "enchanted" by eternal evil itself, now
a heroic breed of skeletons.
What?
Me? Jealous?!!!
Fine, Rower-boy, shove off. You just keep surfing that wave, ride the wine-dark sea
into her hell-hole.
Moor and be merry, that's what she'll say,
right before her song shatters your eardrums.

Why must I always try, always warn them. It's not like they ever listen,
and it's certainly not good for my self-esteem.