Fall of Troy. Miroslav Holub
From burning Troy we took away
these rags of ours,
teeth in a glass
and a tattooed grandpa.
A bit further on the ancient quail
were nesting again
and silver pike were milting
in the quiet sky.
Nailed to the ground by a lance
a soldier
flapped a hand at us.
The wormwood spoke no word
nor did the gentian.
Just like home, said grandpa.
The bleating of lambs
arched a roof
over our heads.
The land flowed with manna.
From the time of the primary rocks
nothing had happened in fact.
And like a fingernail
grown into the flesh
our truth
was always with us.
We slept embraced,
rags wrapped about us,
teeth in a glass.
Just like home, said grandpa.
Nothing had happened in fact.
Only we understood
that Troy
perhaps
had really
fallen.
From Intensive Care: Selected and New Poems. Contributors: Miroslav Holub – author. Publisher: Oberlin College Press. Place of Publication: Oberlin, OH. Publication Year: 1996.