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Penthesilea

Vicky Scholtz

Cry out, o echoes of my pain!
Ring, ring across the Trojan plain
My sobs of anguish, on the carrion fed,
Like dogs and vultures desecrate the dead.

For this I gladly gave my breast
Unsucked by young; that I could test
My mettle on the fighting fields of Troy,
Could rise above my womanhood, to joy.

Here lies upon the sullen dust
That body which fired me with lust
In tragic armour clad, those shoulders broad
Carried my heart while through the skies I roared.

Now lifeless lie, deprived of fight,
Heroic hands that none dared smite.
Your lips upon my skin I’ll ne’er yet feel.
Your life leaks out slowly through punctured heel.

Hero, now from battle you rest,
Skilled hands never put to the test
To free my body from its aching need.
Nor was my thirsting soul quenched by your seed.

Your armour now aside I’ll cast
Strip that brave chest that’s breathed its last
Adorned by but the sun your body lies
Caressed by battle’s gusts, and by mine eyes.

These legs like pillars bore your weight
Carried you on to meet your fate.
Thighs like an elephant, calves like a boar
A maiden’s appetite will still no more.

These hips so bold lie useless now:
No maidens riding on the prow
Of your manhood, lying silent and soft.
Where is the life that once held it aloft?

My body aches at losing you
After the thrill of choosing you
Among so many men upon the field —
To you I chose my chastity to yield

But fate has robbed us both, through death.
Your body now devoid of breath
Is no less manly for its being still —
My body aches for want of you. My fill

I’ve yet to drink, so now I’ll sup,
Your love juices I’ll now drink up
And, having drunk your manhood’s wasted wine,
Upon your yearning flesh, my love, I’ll dine.

This wedding feast is but for one;
Below the tragic Trojan sun
Watch Penthesilea consummate her need:
Amongst the vultures on your flesh I feed.

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