Menelaus to Paris
Not a day goes by in the years that have followed,
When song saltier than salt not repeated by swallows—
And blood, blacker than torrential rain pumps in vain,
What feels the sky upon absence I know not,
Increasingly perhaps accuses of pride and perversity of thought—
Yet, I pen this in hopes of misgivings oust,
Return to shore the lady whom thee tricked, brazenly doused.
Sparta remembers, holy knees have sworn;
Trail of corpses devoid of skin shall meet with thee upon morn.
What hopes had thou, to steal and flee?
Ask what awaits in tumult and turmoil believed right by the sea.
Paris to Menelaus
Forgive me, for lady be lovelier than rose itself;
Our laughing bosoms under the oak were compelled.
I came not under pretense, the sun, the stars and moon are witness;
Her beauty constant, infects— believe it to be incurable, an illness.
Lips fuller than full beguile,
It may be that time in truth jests ‘bout lovers all the while—
That being said, let not winter’s wrath keep thee from battle;
I am a shepherd, I am a fool, I am a prince, waste not breath in prattle.
Trust that early black lends to strengthening resolve,
Thy insults in a jelly I swear to dissolve.
Sayest thou the sea awaits;
Come what may, a thousand ships be diminished before stroke of eight.
Photo credits: “Abduction of Helen,” by Maerten van Heemskerck, Pinterest
Join me, as I host Poetics tonight and invite others to try their hand at writing ‘Verse Epistles.’💝