But I’ve always been of a determined nature. Patient, they used to call me. I like to see a thing through to the end.
II. The Chorus Line: Rope-Jumping Rhyme
we are the maids the ones you killed the ones you failed
we danced in air our bare feet twitched it was not fair
with every goddess, from there to here you scratched your itch
we did much less than what you did you judged us bad
you had the spear you had the word at your command
we scrubbed the blood of our dead paramours from floors,
from stairs, from doors, we knelt in water while you stared
at our bare feet it was not fair you licked our fear
it gave you pleasure you raised your hand you watched us fall
we danced on air the ones you failed the ones you killed
III My Childhood
Where shall I begin? There are only two choices: at the beginning or not at the beginning. The real beginning would be the beginning of the world, after which one thing has led to another; but since there are differences of opinion about that, I’ll begin with my own birth.
My father was King Icarius of Sparta. My mother was a Naiad. Daughters of Naiads were a dime a dozen in those days; the place was crawling with them. Nevertheless, it never hurts to be of semi divine birth. Or it never hurts immediately.
When I was quite young my father ordered me to be thrown into the sea. I never knew exactly why, during my lifetime, but now I suspect he’d been told by an oracle that I would weave his shroud.