First Story: Iphigenia at Aulis

In my First Story session at St Augustine's yesterday we talked about the story of Iphigenia, which has always haunted me (and indeed it features a little in The Liberators.) There were some very interesting responses to the story, including a moving look at it from Clytemnestra's viewpoint, and a lusty Achilles. I came up with a short poem:

Iphigenia at Aulis

This morning

I dreamt flame.

The house on fire

My dress a halo.

I told my nurse.

“It’s love,” she said.

“For Prince Achilles.”

And when we left,

I saw an eagle pounce upon

A running hare.

I closed my eyes.

*

The fleet! The men, beery and bored,

Shouting. I caught a sailor’s

Eye. Black teeth, stunted limbs.

My father’s tent. Silken, gold,

Shimmering, a thing not meant for

War. And there he was.

Killer prince. Godborn spearstrong

Violent Achilles. My about–to–be

Husband. He took my wrist.

In his eyes, a fierceness, cold and

Bright. The men all roared.

The sea was calm. My heart.

The altar! Smoking, laden with

Fruits. My father, weeping. I wonder:

Where’s my mother?

I turn to where Achilles stands. His

Mouth is open. He points

Behind me. And then I know. 

I know the terrible 

inevitable chain has

Tightened, pulled, strained.

My father holds no wedding wreath.

In his grip a knife. My heart.

One moment. A shout, and hands

Not his, my dress ripped open,

Shadows on the stone

Everything shuts down.