I.

A labyrinth doesn’t sound so bad provided you have food and water,
A towel, and a change of clothes. You’d never run into them–
Former professors, ex-lovers, skinny girls with pregnant stomachs.
You’d never have to say, I’m so happy for you, a smile like chewing leather.
The minotaur has dark eyes and sharp horns, but he’s like a honeybee:
If you don’t bother him, he won’t even know you’re there.
And when you get lonely, you can sing some songs.

II.

Falling towards the bottomless is OK,
With a good headlamp, and clothing with pockets. If you bring a book.
When you work on your form, your falling form,
You will discover a diver of interminable twists and flicks.
The perfect parallel of two strong legs outstretched together.
Drop your fear below you.  It falls faster.
When you never hear the ring of the penny in the well,
You will forget about the ground and fly.

III.

In pursuit of you are men with terrible, empty faces,
In black suits and black cars and black shoes.
Your sneaker laces are untied but you are running.
There is a taste burning in your throat.
Your belt gone somewhere away,
And all you know is: If you stop for one second,
They will be on you like dogs.
In truth, chimeras are bashful.
If you undress. Walk naked into the light, and stand still,
And look them in their button eyes.
You will wake up laughing,
To cat-scratching at your door.

Emily Rudofsky is a poet and writer living in Cambridge, Mass. Her forthcoming collection of poems, titled Ravenous, will be published by Yes/No Press in summer 2013. Read more of her poetry at http://esclavepoems.wordpress.com.