Odysseus, on the blackest of nights, without

stars or moon to guide him, with only
the clouds above and the sea below, two
seas, really, if you think about it, which he
did, quite a bit, actually, he had
a lot of time to think on that boat, especially
when he was strapped to the mast, you know
when that was, with the sirens, they sang
and he heard them and only he knows what
they sound like, if he’s honest, they’re
overhyped, he thinks, they only made him want
to jump into the water and drown, but he
didn’t have any illusions about that
at the time, they just made him ready to
die in the cold water, become a part of it,
travel the world, not that he hadn’t had enough
of that, he was just so tired all the time,
he wanted to get home to his wife, his
dog, his son, his great oak bed, his hall
replete with drinking, with men ready to hear
his story, his travels, though he wasn’t sure
he was ready to tell them, not yet, in fact
what he thought while strapped to that mast,
what the sirensong brought his mind to, was
that he might not be allowed to go home
until he was ready to tell what had happened.