In Which Asterion Survives the Labyrinth

Taylor Brunson

Who will be left to follow

the twine? Or the shape


desires take at night,

unspooled? What might


offer me a way out? Horns

frame the radiant scrim


of space, embrace dark sides

of twin moons, waxing, waning—


what’s human in me

imagines my form a tenderness,


a body worthy

of worship, star-like.


Mother golden, this is as closely

as I hoped to resemble you,


how you have beamed,

beloved of every beastly


vengeance. Yet, my birthright:

every offering foregone.


Every possible ending

is just as my beginning,


another spoil. No moons

here but the curved


glitter of scythes to light

what I might make


of a man in this heart,

incomprehensible as any other.

About the Author

Taylor Brunson is a poet living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Her work has recently been featured in Non.Plus Lit, The Daily Drunk Mag, perhappened, and Dwelling Literary. She serves as an assistant poetry editor for Four Way Review and an assistant nonfiction editor for Nashville Review. Taylor can be found on Twitter @taylor_thefox.