Thursday, January 1, 2009

life after hector

it was thundering when 
you failed to speak
i spoke of you
beneath the spokes
of his wheel, behind
sun falling, stones falling, that heel
a feel for your face

snowstorms
like greeks
come out of the sea
and do not join but cause the melee

please rise, please bring me rose gold
the reign of the sun
a son
at last bring me astyanax
with words to heal, to beg
this tunnel to end
or else sand blows wide, high, i
am undone

it does not matter what comes
to me now, when soft dusk steals
coins from your eyes
i cannot pay again, i wish 
this time that you had won

5 comments:

the unholy atlantic said...

...astyanax ):

Coweh said...

hector!

though i did read "geeks" instead of "greeks." that was a bit disorienting.

i really like this. it feels very enchanting.

Ianthe Wilde said...

troy = new years? i think so.

(that said, it is quite possible that i am missing the point of this poem.)

Coweh said...

my poem was:

1. not about anyone's current size
2. about more than one person.

the unholy atlantic said...

dear annie,
no you write more poemz )<

ur fren rilez

p.s. the reason i haven't been writing is mostly because of Superstars of Dance, which is counter-inspirational, albeit extremely awesome.