Sarah Sarai

Hephaestus forges Achilles’ snappy shield.
Coyote hands out shades “for the glare.”
Hearing shades, Achilles thinks Hades,
the undead, demands a cross and silver bullets
to endstop Charon. The Styx dredged but
Charon merely ferried ’em and hasn’t
passed over. Who knew? Achilles lashes
Hector’s corpse with leather thongs.
Drags it round and round. Is vengeance
circular? Lotta wrath. No wit. Coyote
sinks to his haunches. Enough with goat-
skinned, wine-chugging Bacchus. Dimpled
behinds bit and grabbed. Giggle-shrill shrieks
ravishing Coyote’s pricked ears. He slaps
a shaggy paw on Achilles’ lovely thigh, cups
a paw so the wind won’t shoulder words
whispered in the Homeric ear.

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