David Ball
Son of Apollo
He has won it,
asked for it, begged for it,
posed for it, come back for it
again and again.
Now for one day he will be
Lord of the Sun.
The chariot he must drive
has more horses than
he can count. His friends
climb up behind him.
Some say: Stick to the old course.
Others: Let’s find a new one.
Make the day longer.
Make the day shorter. But
only he can touch the reins.
His arms are pulled straight
like the wooden arms of a doll.
The chariot dips towards the
Earth, and forests break into
fire. The roof of the jungle is
ripped off, and its dark
inhabitants consumed.
Only the ocean
can take the plunge of
this chariot.
For twelve barren months
there will be no sun.
Page(s) 5
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