Talos Falls

The Halcyon birds rile and fly away
while the Nereids flee upon froth and wave,
floating over shipwrecks from yesterday
smashed by vengeful boulders thrown by the slave;
the slave: sentinel cast in giant bronze,
a titan overlooking his dear isle,
standing tall and steadfast through dusks and dawns
to defend his Crete paradise erstwhile,
but now, stricken, his strength bleeds out his heel,
and though his essence is molten passion
the colossus collapses, made to feel
the agonies of his mortal fashion.
Howling, he recalls the small, subtle hand
that twisted the vitals from the weak spot,
a lithe, little hand whose soft command
could not be resisted once it had caught
the crux, the crank, the crucial clutch that turned
to empty his veins of his sole vigor
and then strolled along the beach where love burned—
a great ruin, and her distant figure.

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