SLAM!

Apollo gave Cassandra the gift of true prophecy, then doomed her never to be believed. When Agamemnon carried Cassandra home as a spoil of the Trojan War, his wife killed them both. Cassandra predicted her own fate, then walked forward to meet it.


Always Cassandra


I cannot lie. Truth or shame
shine through the haze
of the merest attempt at deception,
as once, at twelve, I tried to hide
my blemishes with powder,
so I have given up trying.

You don't want to hear what I have to say
but I am doomed to speak it.
When the god of poetry ran his tongue over my lips
he doomed you, too.

Truth is the deep knoll of a bell
you feel in your shoulders, heart, gut, knees
as you mount the hill
and still you reject me.
Visit your mother, I told you,
but she died alone.
This thirst means our daughter's blood
is swollen with sugar.
A man is pursuing me, trouble lies ahead.
We all stand before the house
amazed at the red flames,
neighbors clustered, muttering.
I cannot help but predict
the loss of my piano music.

Don't be surprised, if I am always
Cassandra, when this other man
takes me. Comfort yourself
with the fact that one day his wife
will pull back my head by my hair
and slash my throat
over a bowl of wine,
over his dead body.

Raise the children on the royalties.

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