Europa V Poem by Morgan Michaels

The flat of her palm slipped across the bull's sheer side. Suddenly she felt a bizarre urge to climb on. Quite like a bus, the bull hissed, stooped and lowered its shoulder, invitingly. Why not? It didn't seem dangerous, so she did, giving a little hop on, first one leg then the other. Its back was broad as a studio floor. Alas, but once settled, everything changed. No sooner had she righted herself on the bull's back then it roared, reared, pawed the air, leapt into the waves and began to run faster and faster, till she realized they were far from shore and very far to sea, and this must be some kind of miracle. All she could do was hold fast. As the sea slipped by and the bull ran on, dolphins emerged from the waves alongside, eager to race, but the bull outstripped them all. It was, the sea, smooth as asphalt- or shingle, its Mesopotamian equivalent. She thought she heard them laughing, the waves, and saw pink at the corner of the bull's eye, as it stared backwards at her, brayed again to the wide sky and struck a course north.