Thursday, March 21, 2019


“the rivers’ silt swelling with blood / for a piece of linen waving, a moving cloud” ~Seferis, after Euripides

All flags are Helen’s tunic.
There never was a Helen,
Never an ideal

To unfurl and follow death,
Only the shadow, the cloud.

Flickering, literary
Afterlives haunt all armies,
All pretense to cause
Of bloodshed other than lust

For resources, power, and blood.
Nothing but the eidolon
Of justice came to any
Citadel that rose or fell.

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