Odysseus orbits temptation
tilting his head into ecstasy, his mouth
full of planetary signs when Calypso genuflects
the veins in the nape of his marbled
throat until he curtsies low for Circe
and the Siren's amnesiac memory;
he's forgotten the wettest nymph
sliding up and down his chest,
how she sucked the inside of his lip
softening the o of oblivion's saturated stars
darker than his dilated eyes
deep sea diving for the pearl, luminous
as the curve of his neck arching
to meet that ache of tenderness
immersed in constellations Penelope
dissolves the skin of woven time
with the anchorage of cosmic threads
silently waiting for death.