Medea's Lament

Here's the news--
(though you never ask)
a chain grocery has bought Saint Sebastian's,
and the altar still sticky with our vows
will be torn out,

replaced with giant coolers,
jumbo pizzas,
grade A eggs.

Ha! I love irony.
Do you remember when you told me
all that cracked shit about the Golden Fleece?
Did I make fun of you,
there in our bed with your stupid adventure novel 
and our young hopes, sure as homing pigeons?
No.

And so you see, I am merciful after all,
at least to the degree of which I am capable. 
A few dragon's teeth make a thousand men,
and a thrown rock scatters them,
just as I had told you,
to save you,
back when I was almost innocent, and in love.

So how is Glauce?
Does she still dye her crispy pale locks with L'Oreal?
Is she old enough to drink yet?
Was she worth it?

Oh dear, I know that black grinding silence;
I've offended you.
I just called to tell you about Saint Sebastian's,
and to tell you the kids can't come this weekend.
Yes, I know it's your turn,
but they're going swimming.
Yes, alone, Jase. I told them they could.
In fact, I insisted.

You always imagine the worst of me.
No, I don't think that's a good idea, and besides,
they can't come to the phone right now.
What do you mean my voice sounds funny?
Happy, you mean? Satisfied? Like you would even know.

One last thing...
that winged goat thing that we had?
I pitched it.
Well Jason, I needed space in the family room
for food trays from the deli at the new supermarket.
Why, for the funerals, of course.
Poor Jason, you sound so at sea,
but don't worry,
I've taken care of everything,
just like I used to when you loved me and I was glad to do it.
________

for Kerry's challenge--"Is Love A Tender Thing?"