Part III

“Up, Achilles.” A mist voice whispers, cool spit on rough skin.
“Coward,” it declares.
Hammer to the ice.
Legs like steel springs. Propel him down the track.

Feet planted,
A spire on the dune.
Soft stomach, open stomach.
An invitation. 

Watch them fight, murderers,
Without you to save them.
They cannot win, for
You cannot help them.

Voice like Tamahay.

 Just scream.

 Metal clattering stops.

Thump, Thump, Thump.
Fast breath, in-out
Run into the early sunset.

No one saw them drag it away.


“I think,” Polydamas said, “we should retreat.
Achilles’ presence is a sign.
We’ll return to the city,
Behind the wall,
And hide.”

Snarl from Hector.
Strong, rough heels.
Sunk into the sand.

 “Are you Greek?
We stay.”
“I have always held your counsel in
Esteem, Hector, but this once—“

“We stay.
We will not be slaves.
We will not be girls.
We will fight. We will win.”

Priam nods. His eyes sweep over us.
Those piercing blue bullets shot from a Derringer .41,
Agreement floods your mind,
You can’t say no.

Hector and Polydamas.
Face to face.
Nose to nose.

The End

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