Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Last Troy poem


The goddess came and saved him once again.
We had him and his son, knives at their balls,
down, sweating. Then a voice like struck brass calls
out of the air. Our king had killed our men

taken one generation to the wars
and killed their sons for hanging round his wife.
I wish I had been quicker with my knife.
He hanged my daughters, said that they were whores.

The island dies. No one to guide a plough
sow seeds, make pots, bake bread. We will grow old
and starve. He has not even brought home gold,
just death. That's all that Ithaca grows now.

Athena guards him. Otherwise our king
would be dead meat, not one of whom men sing.

  • Had to be a London poem

    LONDON Night in a city that has licked its wounds Two thousand years. And curls around its kits Feeding and grooming heroes cowards wits Lovers and…

  • What it says

    ON LIGHT Sentience basks where crystals just reflect. Blind kittens stretch and mew into the sun Soft pressure on their skin. There's straight lines…

  • A poem sort of about science

    LORENZO ON LANIAKEIA A feather or a skeleton of leaf A spiderweb that blows in breeze when torn Out on the edge of nothing we are born Blue void's…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment