3 December 2017

you,

girl who 

splinters 

under 

the weight

of perfection,

don’t you know:

you sprang forth at the dawn

of the millennia adorned in armor,

sword and shield in hand,

a product of the learned and one

among them, home amidst the 

ranks of the sages.

O, even-tempered arbiter of justice, 

testament to Virgil’s cunning and 

Homer’s poetic ambition,

tactical goddess: you,

muse of bard and battle.

Aphrodite can keep her manicured prison.

I want the unworthy to look upon aeons of 

wisdom and warfare in these steely eyes

and tremble.