The Trojan Women
We wore bright necklaces. We wore the dazzle
of a city. We were bodies draped in luxury,
the days ahead barely visible behind bolts of silk
that shimmered, gray to darker gray,
that shimmered, gray to darker gray,
held this way, that way in the light.
Nothing was approaching from across the sea.
Nothing was approaching from across the sea.
No thousand ships on the water and the water
barely rippling. We imagined the future
barely rippling. We imagined the future
was a length of linen, the color of early morning,
or the yellow of uninterrupted sand.
or the yellow of uninterrupted sand.
And if a daughter saw what was coming,
her voice was birdsong we couldn’t understand.
her voice was birdsong we couldn’t understand.
Of course, there was bad weather, a god
battering the walls with his furious rain.
battering the walls with his furious rain.
There was sickness too—the madder-red
of some fevers, or the time honey went
of some fevers, or the time honey went
mud-brown in the comb, the bees found dead.
But our beds were only a place of sleep,
But our beds were only a place of sleep,
not yet a funeral couch scented with saffron oil.
We were, ourselves, not yet divided.
We were, ourselves, not yet divided.
Our necks were ringed with gold for years,
and why should we have questioned
and why should we have questioned
how time would unroll in front of us, what snags
in the weaving, what quick unraveling.
in the weaving, what quick unraveling.
