Cassandra

He had no shame;

Artemis was sleeping deep in the heart of the moon

and it was as plain as day

no clouds would come nor rain to her aid

no one would blot nor blind him

his light shown so strong, so hot the fire of him, of his vile desire, even from across a barren field, he burned her, her skin turned pink, her body blistered from that heat borrowed from Hades

she ran near breathless

her feet kicked up sand

That coated her lungs the same as those poor souls who wandered lost in the wake of Pompeii

Where were the four winds?

Where was Hermes to take her to safety in one stride?

Her thighs were burning

She was never a warrior

and did he have no sympathy for a woman? not built for a marathon

Chaste all the way from Troy to the tree of Daphne

Hanging to the very branch

Begging for mercy to the Gods

Please would you make me a vine! I want to hold onto the only woman who could save me!

The only refuge from that scalding body that had descended from the sky,

he caught her by the soft waves of her hair

almost ripping out the locks Aphrodite had cut from her own hair

It had been a gift the goddess had given her when she was still in her cradle

When she and Ares had smiled down upon her and dreamed for her a gentle future

Filled with love and children after the coming war

He licked his lips and then hers

It scalded her like boiling water

she was disgusted and disfigured by his kiss

He had snapped at her lips like popping oil

She screamed

She near drown

as he split into her

He put a sea serpent down her throat and it would ride like revulsion in her stomach long after he left

She gargled and choked from then on whenever prophecy came to her

Her jaw locked

as she wheezed the future through her broken teeth

Her hands spasmed

her arms kindled

and the letters she addressed to the Hittite emperor

begging for men and horses

turned to ash beneath her fingers

She saw it all slipping between her fingers

Her brokenness shattered

her status as a prophetess

and her father, mother, brothers, sisters, city

dismissed her

as mad

She would wander about the palace

head thrown back,

crying and screaming at the sky

Helen arrived and snickered

unabashed of how ugly she was, but

she could tell no one

of what was to come.

Her body butchered and frightful

in a last frightful fit,

they locked her underneath the city

where the sun never reached

and where the moon could never rescue her

An aloof, young man was ordered to stand outside the door of her prison

he sighed at the dreary decaying beams of the dungeon

and often during the hours of his watch,

he was inattentive to his post,

and passed the time in dreams

her hoarse, whispering voice crept through the door when he passed meals to her

but many days into her life sentence,

he caught a glimpse of her gentle hand in the dim light of the torches

and the tips of her fingers brushed his hand

She pulled away from his touch so quickly

the plate tipped and the rotted food atop it fell in between the cold stone of the cobbled floor

At birth, Athena took the garment she wove in her famous competition with Arachne,

and cut it into a pair of gloves to cover the palms of her hands

He stood in the market for hours; touching every woman’s garment that was for sale

Not even silk was softer than that accidental caress

In his dreams, her voice snuck in,

wrapped around him

sighed in his ears

when he awoke

he mourned the sweet dream in which she swore an oath to love only for him; forever and always, only you

He rose earlier than the sun to be with her in that dripping oubliette.

He spoke loud and excitedly to her and Echo reciprocated every lover’s vow

if he would let her out.

Fumbling hands on keys,

the creak of a door so old

it broke on its rusted hinges

He looked in

she covered her face with that hair like cloth of gold

Let me see your face and I will do anything for you.

I am down on my knees ready to swear my fealty to you

if you will only let me see the face of my beloved.

She let go of her hair

and she wept to cool the burning depressions across her lips

the mark of Apollo’s path

his dirty foot tracks he had left on her mouth

when he had crossed the barrier of the young oracles’ shrine.

He kissed her feet up and down and all the way to her bare knees and bowed his head to her.

She wept over him;

caressed his face

grazed on the fresh crop of his face

softer lips

he closed his eyes as he felt his heart fly all the way off to heaven;

but that mouth touched once by Apollo

would burn them both like Icarus

what rode his chariot across the sky,

no matter how hard he would fight for the Trojans,

he would not come when it was most needed

his clear eyes, unharmed, would turn a blind eye to that man

Come with me;

I will protect you,

from this darkness and the sun.

Her days she spent no longer in that cruel dungeon

where she had not spoken to anybody.

She laid across the sheets of his bed

played with its embroidered hangings,

brushed them against her face,

rough palms,

a chest fuller with fur than a beast

with more hair than whole fields of golden wheat

his arms, as coarse as sheep’s wool;

she pet the thick hair of his hard shoulders all day and all night long

She clung to this only man who believed her. Her beloved soldier and guard; who brought her to freedom,

his body was hard as steel; his strength in arms, she felt every time he held her body to him

She thought he must have been born of Aphrodite.

He was as handsome as Eros

his tongue had been tempered by love

it had forgotten how to speak anything, but soft, adoring utterances to her.

She could never have been convinced before he died that he was not at least half of Hermes or Aphrodite.

He spoke with such ease;

gentle supplications to Tory’s politicians and to her father, the king,

for peace, for treaty, for abstinence from war.

For the hand of a princess of whom he gave freedom, but could not let go.

Off to the field if he wanted her;

to defend the woman who had royal claim to Sparta

and who would lay waste to Troy

Unheeded and abandoned

when Athena ran into Hermes’ arms;

Her dashing soldier was dashed into desert sands

when he was right upon Achilles’ heels;

He cut her lover in twain with one stroke

the red thread of their love severed

her heart, once whole,

broke into a painful beating

the serpent burst through her stomach to bite at her heart

From the walls of Troy,

the cold eyes of calculating Helen,

once queen whose vulgar anticipation to be future queen counted every fallen Greek and Trojan like grains of sand in a glass until the hour

the very moment

at which the victory would fall

at which that second crown would fall

descending upon her head

eyes closed and with baited breath

she awaited her last moments as princess of Troy

her power,

her pomp,

her white fanged smirk,

their adoring smiles

swelling with pride and with a cuckoo child in hand

that would eat all its brethren

It would all remain a vain dream,

with one last push,

the Greeks would take the city,

burn it all to the ground;

and with one last push,

Cassandra hurled her startled sister-in-law to the ground.