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Helen's Return to Troy by Joanna M. Weston
when I met her on the ramp
she stepped to one side
on sandaled feet
handed me a golden clasp
as she continued up
and I went down
time stopped as we pulled
the cart away
heavy she dropped
to perdition
neck broken
hands out-flung
in one useless effort
to undo tales twisted
by foreign tongues and pens
perspectives skewed facts
up-ended by the gossip
of a thousand historians
today I weave new battles
on her ruined reputation