MEDEA Poem by Margarida Vale de Gato

[Low-lying place, seething rancour, high
rage - the resentment of the woman
in the centre and the wise chorus behind.]

They say she killed her own brother,
descends from the Sun and barbarian soil,
and gave an animal with golden fur
to a practical, not very spiritual young man
who had taken her breath away. But he
also wanted a throne, a second
wife and a country to rule.

When a sorceress weeps she invokes
demons who invoke curses.
The writer, aware of her motive, steadies
the knees of the magic demigoddess
and empathically paints on her mouth
the tragic words: I wanted nothing
for myself, I did it all for you.

And the course of the world entertains
the audience, the crime's accomplices,
those it profited and those it petrified.
And tears roll with each free motion,
and the acuteness of her suffering softens
our shock. The cloak she weaves
smothers with flames, and the spurting
blood and burning flesh truly excite us.

What remains is a pair of infant corpses
at their father's feet: the sky is empty
and no one has yet left the hall.
To conclude the act the genius
solemnly declares that there, on stage,
people love and kill. No more
speeches. He leans back and sets down

his pen with its poisonous nib.