Penny’s Anger

I am Penny,
Waiting for my man.
Twenty years of waiting,
Old Argos has grown weary of waiting.
He won’t last long now.
We are weary of living. He is lying on my feet and gazing out the window,
Down the road.
Waiting for his man.
Each night I bed down in the

Heart of our living marriage bed, the
Olive tree holds only me in its wood.
His heavy headed departure to
War left me weeping on the
Beach where the baby
Crawled along like a crab
As I gazed into the lapping of the
Telemachus began to walk.

I am soft copper. Conductive,
Bending, I stand
Parasomnia, ghost walker
Time etching into my hands.
Waves breaking, mind waking,
Time pounds my
Malleable veins,
Spreading them thin like
Sheets of copper

Lined along the floor for
Greedy men to tread upon.
My softness is like water, and
Will not be
Torn by one hundred and one rock headed dolts.
Quietly, I begin to stitch,
For diligence is my distraction,
My due. Yet I unwind the weaving of my time.
They chase me. I remain chaste.

My man unbeknownst to me
Bobbing like a cork in the open
Sea. My boy, now a man,
Almost a man, travels
Far and wide, collecting tales long and strange
Rearranging truths and seeking futures though they
Hide, seeking histories, though they

I’m waiting for my man.
Final sacrifice I cry I did
Concoct a contest for my hand
Dare draw my man’s bow and
Perfectly precise, shoot through seven
Ax heads, a single arrow
Do you know me now?

So tell me, When is the right time for
My anger?


About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
This entry was posted in Homer, Penelope, poetry, waiting and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Penny’s Anger

  1. amabear says:

    really like this one.


  2. beekeeper71 says:

    Knew who she was right away. Gave my daughter the name Penelope. Great poem (and not just because of my daughter’s name and my love for the original story).


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