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Hey Mr Minotaur, so red, so neatly hunchbacked on account of your thick neck, ready to headbutt victims to their deaths   You wait at the end of a corridor with almost-human eyes, with an inhumanly-built back, O incinerator   Who knows where the bull ends and the man begins? It is a mystery, the way that I am going, where you are waiting, O Minotaur   *   I’ve seen your face before Mr Mirror-Minotaur, with your ant-eater’s tapered snout   You’re a total nightmare metamorphosis, Minotaur Hey that’s my face with a version of my body,   that’s my torso you’ve painted with blood from green Greek Loebs, with ink tattoos   from school exercise books I like what you’ve done with the place: my face, my torso draped in the black sail of a shipwreck   *   I feel sorry for you, your long-horned head resting in the arms of a sympathetic hottie   who nurses the thorn in your hoof — I hope you find some peace with her while your mind rages:   a cage of furious constellations gasping for space, for oxygen, for the memory of your conception, for the Elephant Man within   *   If you see me, if I catch your attention, even from a distance, even if the door creaks in your stately home,   you would clatter over my body should I trespass on the wrong side of your electric fence   No lightswitch in your labyrinth but the walls are bleeding No GPS in your maze but sometimes I see myself breathing   No cups of tea in your formal garden but