‘Three Trojan Perspectives’ by Reid McGrath The Society February 9, 2015 Culture, Poetry for E.E. Club Saw Reid I. Priam, Returning to the Ramparts He’d never say it to my face and yet I sense that Hector senses I’m washed up: too old, too soft. Not that he is the pup that sees for the first time his dad beset with something he can’t handle, can’t repair— No, that was long ago; I feel ancient. I’m sick of war and I am impatient for things to go back to the way they were… Think of Agamemnon, Odysseus, dexterous Diomedes, jacked Ajax, AWOL Achilles, and Menelaus— By Zeus! Who could watch? Paris is too lax, Trojans all. The Achaean army’d be a dream if only they had Hector on their team! II. Paris, Back in his Bedroom Because he never let me fight my fights— too protective, he always interfered, having an older brother’s heart, he jeered at me in private, but on public nights painting Troy red, when we were fun and young, and when some badger mocked or called me out, I never even had the chance to shout before big Hector, Priam’s favorite son, had pushed me back, and got into the face of that poor fool—I’ve got a lover’s soul, not a fighter’s. They call me a disgrace! loathe me like Black Death, whereas he is “cool.” I know it all too well that I’ve been spoiled. Helen smells this coward who’s recoiled! III. Hector, in Front of his Men, Kicking at the Dirt It’s ridiculous all the times he’s quailed: say when we’d got to wrestling round the shocks of grain (for fun) or on the salty docks of some sea-town where we, as kids, had sailed; and where the local thugs, reeking of fish, would test our guts when chap’rons let us be. He’s never had the right integrity; and off he’d flit before they served a dish of knuckled fist smushed in his pretty face. He is a chicken whereas Menelaus is like some redbone barking at the base of a tall tree. My brother is a wuss, who I thought changed, but again let me down. Especially cause Troy is our hometown! Reid McGrath is a poet living in the Hudson Valley of New York. Featured Image: “Hector Admonishes Paris for His Softness and Exhorts Him to Go to War,” 1786, by Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.