Psycomachy

Psycomachy 

As Achilles demanded Agamemnon

Repent to save the Greeks

So do you bid me to fidelity.

You draw me to yourself.

Wounded

On hands & knees

Soiled with the dust of fate

foes closing in behind.

You supply the grape & I partake

Seized by my iniquities.

You say you desire me

That you’ve chosen me as your own

But I’m a stallion in a haze of abandon.

I kick and jostle when you approach

As concealed scars splinter and re-open.

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