We called him hero, muscles-bulging-stud,
stallion, wrestler, runner, hunk of playboy
jack of spades, winner and the nation’s hope.
… until we saw his heel, the mark of needles,
weakness clear as pimples on his back,
the evidence of being dipped in styxian water;
pinched and pampered, mother’s boy;
high on steroid when he fell from grace;
cheater, scam and scab, he was ousted
bit the dust to end up working graveyard shifts
cleaning (not the Augean stables) but derelict
warehouse buildings for a minimum wage.
No arrow ever pierced his heel, but his muscles
shriveled, left him to a state of sag in flesh,
hollow husk; forgotten, bygone, lost, erased
Brendan inspires us to write about heroes at toads. Every hero has a fall (from grace), and I think the fact that Achilles was dipped in the river Styx should have been considered doping in today’s world. Will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow.
May 19, 2018