Lust rages in this stone:
stone blood breaks
from a cracked neck bone.
The moment before, the strike,
the pain, in stone.

Time locks in hate:
When Lapith rips an ear
Centaur breaks a spear.
When Lapith aims a stone
Centaurs punch straight on.

Lift the bowl of wine
or bow low, diplomatic.
Fearful. It comes to zero-
peace too delicate
when minds unwind.

O pediment of appendages -
knee grind in rump
horse leg bent
hoof hammering balls
women mauled!

History or myth: man's truth -
politics. His impediment himself
as victim spread-eagled over a jar,
or as perpetrator,
and his gods - gorgeous, aloof.


Common Ground Review, Vol. 5, 2001
The Common Ground Writers' Group
West Springfield, MA