Laoco├Ân

Apollo, hear my silence.

I know my sin before you,
the act unclean.

So many years. We were so young,
Antiope so lovely. Her skin a silk,
her arms embracing, legs encircling
me before your altar.

Have I not served you well?
Do my two sons displease you?
Is it impious to be young?

Tonight
my Trojan masters
bid me offer to Poseidon
that portion which is yours.
Tomorrow
they will order it.
Now they shout
within the smoking halls,
made bold
by common sorcery.
(As if a snake would speak your will!)

Did I not warn them early?
Did I not reprimand them late?

Lord, they do not hear. Will you?
They only see that damned horse
and dream prosperity.

Apollo, your silence deafens me.

So,
I must be the offering.
Then let the sea
disgorge my fate. I serve
my God and love Antiope.

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