The Eagle

He puts all his life’s regret
on my feathery eagle-wings
in loud sobs
he tells me he stole darkness
and brought light
brought life and pleasure

When I kiss him awake
at dawn’s rising
he often smiles
he has a trickster’s face
and mindset
but this smile is not fake

he says he dreads the night
when he feels the pain
of healing flesh
regrowing, mending
he says
he minds not my kisses

on which I feast like on
ambrosia
my beak is turned into dripping
dark-red lips, still smoking-warm
in the cool morning breeze
of these celestial regions

with my wings I shield him
from the angry hoof beats
of Helios’s chariot-drawing steeds
and all the while
his fiery eyes whisper to mine
until nightfall parts us

I feel his arms strain
against his shackles
and see his eyes grow red
with salt
and wish my wings were his
to flee the night

but how to give them
I do not know
instead I wait
in twilight’s clutches,
await that Herculean arrow
that will free me from the suffering

of making him suffer
this trickster
whose honest smiles
betray his gentle lies
but until that arrow takes me
I find all my joy in a new dawn

[In elementary school, Alexandra Seidel had a wonderful teacher who introduced her to the twelve labors of Hercules. This was the first Greek myth Alexandra ever read, and more followed later during five years of Latin at school, all of which left a deep impression on her mind and sometimes on her writing. Alexandra’s prose and poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Star*Line, Labyrinth Inhabitant Magazine, New Myths and others. Every once or twice, Alexandra blogs. She is never quite sure about what. Better go see for yourself.]

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1 thought on “The Eagle”

  1. Nice! I love the modernistic (sic?) meter and classical subject matter. There’s a feeling for all seasons there. Glad to know your work a little better.

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