Elektra

by Jennifer Saint

Of course, I am hopelessly incompetent at everything I attempt, and Georgios’ indulgent smiles have given way to quiet dismay as I burn bread, forget to fetch water, and let families of spiders festoon every corner of our home with cobwebs. He works endless, exhausting days out in the fields, and when he comes home so tired and finds me still mired in my despair, the easy conversations of our past friendship seem impossibly out of reach. I worry that he regrets tying himself to me and my misery, though he tells me it isn’t so.

fucking loser

You’ve learned from your family’s history that blood must be repaid in blood. But I’ve been farming, working on your father’s lands for all of mine. I learned it from my father, how everything dies away and comes back again, how we sow and reap the harvest every year. I’ve learned the rhythms of the seasons, and how even the harshest of winters is always followed by spring.’

bless him

I hate to remember that I am her daughter; hate to think that what I know, I learned from her.

I’m condemned as much as she to give voice only to sorrow, but I must bear it in this body.