POSEIDON . . . . . SPARKLING ANGELS (Anonymous)

You pierced my heart
Spatacus lay alongside me on my bed
Spread, asleep, dreaming of
Angels and fettered things
What more war what more blood lust

Poseidon, his beard his forked
trident spear . . . Lay down
His anchor, disembarked
Come sit, come talk with me
I have seen angels and terribly beautiful things

To Spartacus, while he slept
A poisoned arrow I did fashion
From steel a shaft made I,
and a square of iron, I whittled
as if it where hard wood.
I whittled the iron into a point.


Poseidon at my door -
Poseidon I gave nought to eat, save. . . .
Water, water from my well so deep.
In an amphora, this my offering alone
Water, water from my own deep well.
He drank with a thirst,
two amphoras full, I was obliged to fill.

In the morning when I looked for Spartacus
He had gone and alongside
My arrow head, its shaft, steel, iron.
"Handmaidens, handmaidens" I called out
"Where is Spartacus, the man who lay in my bed, last night?"
"He set sail at first light and left behind his boots," they said
My arrow gone? He a ship? No boots on?
I mused but did not say. . .

Poseidon having drunk his fill
Bid me goodbye and walked into the forest
From whence he came.
He had given Spartacus his ship.