That wooden horse--Sinon's last gift offer-- Wrapped in deception, in worthless guile. From force, to strategy, to bitter farce, Those wheels rattled toward Troy's fastened gate. Prophesy grumbled from sea to sky, As a decade shrieked with the loosened hinge Of doors broken inward by Sinon's grin. Zeus' palm cradled taciturn goddesses. Fires of Delphi snuffed to ash as The wooden snout lashed a breach in Troy's wall. The Pythia swooned in the clouded smoke Visages of Leda and Lucretia. Invulnerable tingle fluttered Troy, Until the horse's belly burst free will: Swords stabbing, spears sticking, flames scalding-- Sinon's blitz swallowing Troy's bloody heart. Silence. Her burning ears and glassied eyes See and hear nothing from that empty horse. But desolate disease and virus lurk While Troy's pure decade slouches away.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:32 PST