Poetry Corner: Greek Arms
OFELIA FERCH RHOS
So carry me out, Greek arms,
to linens, soft and Aegean.
Clay meets dust
dust meets fertile soil.
Glory, glory, Greek arms,
do not drop me-
Discard me as if
the ocean would give up her dead,
as if your swift footfall
could outrun a tide.
As if, kicking and screaming,
your swift footfall can still bear me stiffly up.
Don’t drop me, Greek arms.
Wield me. Pick me up.
Rattle me like a sabre-
I died that you may kill again.
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