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My Protector
My Protector had eyes that were
the sunshine of Troy, blushed blue,
beautiful like the bays of Lesbos.
And his lips licked off the
burden of my worry, and cradled
the basin of my hope.
He was the protector of Troy,
who felt the stab of the steal sword
like iron piercing through the sun.
The sun that made the flowers of my heart
hold on to life.
Achilles hauled his dead body away—
dragging along my emptied basin.
Now that Hector, my protector, my sun, is gone,
the sunshine has collapsed behind a cloud.
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