Clytemnestra

Though warriors dreamed of Helen's matchless  face,
midnight their thighs emptied for Clytemnestra
snake-hipped, each iris speckled like a stone
until she loved, and then her eyes grew deep
as garnet lanterns on the ancient ark
Storm driven,giving up men's majesty
to monstrous beasts beneath her clever hands
their swell ebbing  to rest by dawn when they
subsided in salt chambers of the sea.

In Clytemnestra's dreams, all Mycenae
screamed of  her husband's knife into her child,
Because he was ignored by winds and gods
And his ships lagged,as if to call him coward.
She cut herself a sigil in her arm
Promising that old blood would run for new
Defying kings and men and every law
except the oath most ancient, Hades' gift,
that he who kills his own dies in like kind.

Agamemnon tried not to see his wife
in dreams, and therefore never slept for long.
After each battle he would rest his thoughts
on Cassandra the Trojan,her dark eyes
marking her out as his by the war's end.
And when the time came, princess though she was,
He mowed her like a man pushing a plough,
And swore her flesh turned red upon his touch
To sounds of laughter, distant but well known. 

Not great

On my way around Lewisham, bumped into a man. We recognised each other straight away. It's this guy:http://smokingboot.livejournal.com/398745.html

I walked on, feeling that sudden sickness, telling myself not to look back, not to make sure when I was already sure. But of course I did, and he did exactly the same. We both turned around and stared at one another's faces, both surprised/shocked, both knowing exactly what we were doing. Then we both walked our separate ways.

I reached a good vantage point and waited for the bus. He didn't come back, he didn't catch the bus, I was safe. But the day felt strange and suddenly too hot, and I had a minor PTSD issue; this man never did me harm. It's his connection with Terrence Emmett and the memories of that time that make me dizzy. Came home, did some of this insane paperwork. Faltering a little bit.

Because he knows Terrence, they know each other from the nick. He could mention me to him, could say that I am still comparatively local. Or not. But I feel so odd. That sense of vertigo was back with a vengeance but it's only a feeling. I was able to think, able to define. It's cold but I am OK. I remember, but those who know about these things warned me that this would be the way of it.

Turns out I am going to Glastonbury tomorrow. It will be good to swap this strange flat tone for fun and more vibrant absurdity.