by Julie Sheehan
Minoans! Minoans! I’m wild about Minoans, From Linear A to their bright, squat columns All ruined—but why? Inscriptions that no one’s Read for ages might very well exhort those Cretans To exclaim, “What bliss,” like us, subsisting on wine, oil, and Gold! Oil, gold, and administrative tablets galore! So Organized, accounting for—we know not! Most glorious Rattles and wild bulls and a love of art Knossos Coded but we will never, never decipher: shout Hoshanot, As the Harvester vase singers do, except in unknown Syllables, and to mother gods! Paint women white as mimes or Men red as the Minotaur, for we cannot grow old on A long-gone hilltop with quite the garbled wit of Minoans, Minoans, I’m wild for Minoans.