Too many thoughts
mind too small
crowded there
inside
he said
Give me more brain
make me a genius
or else
I'll steal your cow
I'll make war
I'll kill your men
you kill mine
said Agamemnon
or one of the other pot-bellied kings
too many men
too little bread
what to do
let's make war
said he of the big belly
and of the big mustache
chief of the walled city
Mycenae
maybe no worse than Troy
our women you know
they don't run around
from city to city
like what's her name
because of whom this war
they stay put
inside the walled city
they don't betray you with a stranger
better with the next of kin
when they kill you
it's straightforward
in a bathtub
with a fishnet
you come home from work—and bam!
no time to regret
no big war
no Troy
no army
it's between you and your spouse
and maybe your concubine
Cassandra
why was she underfoot
she with her prophecies
so she goes too
not too much blood
very orderly
then your spouse rules
with her new spouse
he next of kin
we're all blood relatives here
call my slaves
wash off my blood
until my bathtub is sparkling clean
I told this story too many times
feeling tired now
said Agamemnon's shadow