Troy
Battlements rise against
the blind sky
The gods have turned
their backs on me
they incite against me
a mighty army
a frenzied throng
of darkness
Skin stretched over
the heel’s hot blood
I whet my weapon
on the bones of my foes
then hack off the heel
Draw my knife as the sun sets
sleep now, I’ll hew you a horse
Translated by Victoria Cribb
Page(s) 130
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