The blood pooled in the fresh fosse
and up they drifted out of Erebus
like smoke from every side
in a listless swarming all around
Odysseus, crowding, pressing,
merging together, a cloud bank
of souls that swirled back as one
when he lifted his sword and then as one
surged even closer toward him
when he lowered it, their cries
unearthly, the very echoes of them
echoing for the blood drink
they would drink and know him
by and speak their recognitions.
Already have an account? Log in
Join KR for even more to read.
Sign up for a free account and read any five pieces a month.
Previous
Next