Priam

2.

All
will come
to black vultures.
Pride alone remains.

Eighty
springs my heart recalls.
Eighty
winters hound my feet.
No more.
Let blue Akaeans feed upon my flesh.
Let my house go down to ruin.
Let me go,
not like a goat dragged to slaughter,
but the horse to sacrifice,
consenting.

Give me your arm,
for a time.
Leaning,
I can stand to gaze
across the bay.

There. To the west.
Are those clouds,
do you think,
or sails?

One thought on “Priam

  1. I do love these poems. Quite genius, really, how the apparent narrowing of the story to one old man’s perspective has the effect of broadening it beyond what the original explicitly tells. I like the detail in both of implying the Trojans’ reverencing/worshipping horses, which lends a slant to the “Trojan Horse” part of the story.

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