by ChrisTOPher Logue

To welcome Hector to his death

God sent a rolling thunderclap across the sky

The city and the sea

And momentarily

The breezes playing with the sunlit dust

On either slope a silence fell.

Think of a raked sky-wide Venetian blind.

Add the receding^{1 traction2 of its slats}

Of its slats of its slats as a hand draws it up.

Hear the Greek army getting to its feet.

Then of a stadium when many boards are raised

And many faces change to one vast face.

So， where there were so many masks，

Now one Greek mask glittered from strip to ridge^3.

Already swift

Boy Lutie took Prince Hector's nod

And fired his whip that right and left

Signalled to Ilium's wheels to fire their own，

And to the Wall-wide nodding plumes^{4 of Trojan infantry}

Flutes^5！

Flutes！

Screeching^{6 above the grave percussion7 of their feet}

Shouting how they will force the savage^{8 Greeks}

Back up the slope over the ridge， downplain

And slaughter^{9 them beside their ships}

Add the reverberation^{10 of their hooves： and}

Reach for your oars^{11. . .}

T'lesspiax， his yard at 60， sending it

Across the radiant air as Ilium swept

onto the strip

Into the Greeks

Over the venue^{12 where}

Two hours ago all present prayed for peace.

And carried Greece

Back up the slope that leads

Via its ridge

onto the windy plain.