Entry #99

The Look In Agave’s Eyes
by Kimberly Bea


He knew nothing of mothers. How could He? His died before His birth, and He was born from the womb of His father’s thigh. There were days he barely remembered Semele’s name. Yet when she was insulted, He raged within, and swore vengeance against His own kin.

Yet He was struck by the look in Agave’s eyes.

She held her trophy high, heedless of the blood dripping down her arm. Her eyes were fevered and her color high, intoxication blending with the pride of accomplishment. It would not last; she was due for the worst ‘morning after” in history, once she knew her trophy for the head of Pentheus; once she realized she had killed her own son.

Pentheus. His curls tangled around her fingers;hisblood dripped down her arm. The king of Thebes had been rent to pieces by his drunken mother. It hurt to be rent to pieces; He knew that very well. But maybe it hurt worse to have done the rending, to have slain your kin all unawares. Pentheus, deceased, would drink of Lethe’s waters and forget. The memory was Agave’s alone.

He could never know the bond between mother and son. He did not regret this, nor would He regret when Agave was cast out of the city, when Thebes’ entire royal family fell to exile and murder. Yet He would not look back upon it with pride.

Dionysus poured out wine and drank it, but it did not dull His senses at all.