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Contests : War Poetry Contest : Past Winners : 2006 : EP Allan
THE SACRIFICE
& the wind howled
black ice
slapped explosions
of dead grey froth
leaping into
death scrying wind
did not the men
huddled on the slick rain
cursed deck
pray for poseidon's
mercy even as the ships jostled
& careened into the other
the shuddering keel
the thundering
crack of boards
the screaming fowls
the tall oak masts scratching
wind tossed words of blood
& fear on the hateful
bellies of clouds
it was fear that caused it
fear & pig ignorant greed
fear that the other could
possess that which made him better
was that not the real reason
not the propagandic credo lying
down through history
the face which slaughtered
thousands of men & slashed
the new born's throat raw
to the crow riddled sky
& did the men
with eyes lidless white supplicate
starfish fingers in a plea for him
to abate the storm with
blood
sacrificial blood
his blood
for do not the gods smile upon
the knife
the wet
hungry
dripping
knife
the torn chest cavity
exploding
great haloes of gore
the smile of bone
the slit of skin peeled
back over the slick white
sheen of fat
the dark red muscles
& the still palpitating heart
lifted up to the hungry sky
while the startled brown
eyes beneath glazed in uncomprehending
death
do not the gods like that
their greedy bellies delighting
in the pyre
& the cloying
black smoke's kiss
or was there no storm
was that too a lie
could it possibly be
that the blood of all the farmers
who delight in the aromatic
rain caressed loam
the wild
mountain herders
& the wind roved sailors
had to be paid for in blood
for how many deaths
is one wife worth
did not he too
have to loose the heart
he loved
the mind he fed
& watched with her
black braided hair
willowhisping between the ponderous
stillness of the olive groves
& her wild
white smile
a searing spark
igniting the calculated
night of stupidity with the burning
fear that those deep
wet pebbled eyes would loose
the feral life pulsing beneath
did he not
king or no
pace
by the sick room door
praying hera's acceric oregano
would abate the fever
did he not too feel
a mountain of pride burst
silver
as her white
hesitant fingers plucked her first
paean upon the quavering lyre
& so did she not have to die
for in her death
he would feel
the death
of all the severed
bloody hearts
the men born
to no purpose
other than being silenced
in a senseless war
screaming
agony upon an indifferent field
for the eye
fattened crows & mangy
lopped toothed dogs grizzling
the soft belly
in slick wet
slurps
is that why
the peasants raised their children
& should not he the king
feel their pain up close
& riving bloody
& so all those
eyes within the wind
tossed hold
were they white
with fear or was the look
more obstinate
calculating
& what did he feel standing there
upon the rocky shore
his 1000 ships
mere matchboxes
flayed by a crushing
torrent
did the first doubtful clue
of fate's price
stir beneath
even as he bellowed for the priest's
answer
blood for blood
your heart for theirs
that he could not sit upon
slave fanned cushions
while others bled
then came the fateful
hour
did she shrink
back
for gone the indulgent
smile
replaced by grim
determination framed by a bronze
horse nose helmet
with a flaming
stallion crest
under which two
eyes stared
did he tell
her the purpose
or did he try
the honey serpent's tongue
come to the temple to bid farewell
come to the temple to pray for the glory
of our successful
gold laden
return
come to the temple
poseidon's sanctuary
where we will offer our
hearts to appease his storm
churled breast
& when did suspicion
begin was it in the cloying
lie
or when the silent
spear clutching guards in their
crimson blood robes
stalked
beside her down the granite
promontory to the white
pillared temple thrust out
on a rocky finger
to the surge
& hiss of sea
or was it not
even then
was it when the white
robed priests with their smooth
labourless hands pounced on her
straight shoulders
& hurled
her down upon the altar
the white hempen rope drawn
in a tight spread-eagle
her starless
night black hair streaming out
over the cold stone
poseidon's marble face
frowning
& the knife
clasped in her father's
tight hand with pink & white bows
arcing under each fisted nail
did she scream
as the hungry knife
leapt down
puncturing
her breast with a slick
punk
the ripping of skin
explosions of blood
the jerking feet nailed
down by the press of rope
the silver burn
of the fingers
& blade sawing the arteries
the indignity of shit
& piss
sliding down & out even as
her heart with one final
wrenching
blood spurting jerk
was thrust before her
incomprehensible glazed
eyes
so the first death
of the war began at home
for are not all wars a war
against the children
do they not
slaughter & rape a generation
into hatred
& did he smile
down upon his work
& the slack
drool wet mouth
the once warm
blood chilling his fingers wet
& the ships set forth
upon the calm waters
their snowy
sails filled with the wind's
eager push
as he paced
the surging deck
dreaming of the great
burning city & the happy heroic
sword hacked dead
This poem won an Honorable Mention in the 2006 War Poetry Contest sponsored by Winning Writers. Author EP Allan received a $75 award. Copyright is reserved to the author.
About EP Allan
I have an MFA in Creative Mis-spelling from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Besides that I have won the American Poets Prize and the Cole Younger Poets Award, have published in both print and electronic magazines, and have released 2 music CDs. I also maintain my own website.
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