16 November 2012

Helen of Troy

give me a break
you really think
it was her face
that launched those ships

try sandaled feet
and golden calves
and perfect curves
of thighs and hips

of breathing breasts
beneath her wrists
and yes, perhaps,
those parted lips

inside the horse
we thought about
the gifts we’d brought
long years before

those new perfumes
from distant lands
doomed suitors to
her father’s door

so curled we tossed
and hugged our shields
and dreamt away
the stench of war

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