Ted Hughes

The Minotaur

The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother's heirloom sideboard- Mapped with the scars of my whole life. That came under the hammer. That high stool you swung that day Demented by my being Twenty minutes late for baby-minding. 'Marvellous!' I shouted, 'Go on, Smash it into kindling. That's the stuff you're keeping out of your poems!' And later, considered and calmer, 'Get that shoulder under your stanzas And we'll be away. ' Deep in the cave of your ear The goblin snapped his fingers. So what had I given him? The bloody end of the skein That unravelled your marriage, Left your children echoing Like tunnels in a labyrinth. Left your mother a dead-end, Brought you to the horned, bellowing Grave of your risen father And your own corpse in it.