Troy

A fish broke silver ripples shimmering
In shadow on a corpse that drifted, one
Whose youthful grace Achillês had undone,
Savage, by Xanthos found and darkening.

A low sun limned the tentative advance
Of dogs, vultures descending to the plain,
Stragglers that picked among the pallid slain
Where scattered bronze gave off a feeble glance.

The wall burned red. There wept Andromache
As beautiful in bursting grief as she
Who watched, eyes empty, from the Scaian Gate...

While shouting Danaôus, flushed with a lust
Like ruthless flame that death alone could sate,
Drove sunward, dragging Hector in their dust.

---Bert Laub

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