I went bare-assed into the battle. The President himself heard of my insolence. I was given a flea-ridden mutt to ride. I rode in com-pany of crows pleading with them to please remember me. I had a dollhouse knife between my teeth, the red plastic pisspot on my head as a helmet.
When she heard the news, my mother caused the Greek fleet to be deprived of favorable winds on its way to Troy. Witch, they called her, dirty witch-and she, so pretty, chopping the onions, laughing and crying over the stew pot.
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The Prose Poem