Jody's Notes
Helen is supposed to have been really beautiful. Beautiful enough to start a war. Well, okay, so that's really implausible. But I thought to myself--here's a fresh angle on that myth. An angle, anyway, that I can explore in a fresh way--envy.
The egg is a gem; nearby
roosters are pedophiles.
The pregnant sky, perhaps
with rainbow; but it disappoints
if we think of Helen.
The egg cracks open: gold
flickers, and goes out.
(Even the season, marginalized,
gestalted by her
into the background).
Some wars later, she dies;
birds sing again. Puddles
too sullen even to reflect
once more turn blue; young nymphs
again open their hands
as if in search of antennas.
© 2003, 2012 Jody Azzouni