When I was a child
My sister Kassandra
A child likewise
Took up an axe.
“If no one will believe me,”
Said she,
“I will do this myself.”
And on she marched to the chamber where our newborn little brother lay.
“Jealousy” some called it
(As if the latest baby was worse competition than the many that had come before)
And began to whisper “mad.”
Alas!
Woe for all the world
All the world we know
Lies in rusty blood and sifted ashes
Because rational heads
Using muscled hands
Took away an axe.
Alexandros Paris,
You should have been cleft as she desired.