ATHENA

One day a small statue of a white owl
 showed up in red
   crackly paper.
       No one could say
why she kept it on the porch,
  letting the paper held
    down by its feet,
drip incriminating scarlet
   on her orderly porch
      violating the snowy
          rails.
Another day, the paper turned into the
   pink of raw meat,
      they buried it
          with her in her
shriveled hands and laid
    a spear beside her coffin.