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by Jake Kingsley


Pallas, brandished, a statue to

the bygone love, this sanctuary

shipwrecked Cassandra, miscarried

by lesser Ajax, no rescue


but for blood Athena spars spurred

on by Triton's own memory

grasping hand, a sea buried

in grief, its surface broken through


and you, my cloak, pallor ruins you.

You wanly rush where gods tarry.

I have hollowed you for hymnary,

throat, chest and song left out in lieu.


They will invent myths to explain

the bodies. It will be in vain.

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