Hector to Odysseus in Hell

By Dan Gunter
©2010 Dan Gunter, Seattle, WA

Permit me, too, my former foe, to taste
The sacrificial blood and speak once more.
I promise you that Iíll not prove a bore.
Iíll ask no news of what befalls my chaste

Andromache, or my dear son. Iíve faced
The fact that I will face them on this shore.
Why trifle at a day, a year, a score
When all at last will join me in this waste?

I ask for voice instead to tell of grief
That seems too small to count as grief: Iíve lost
For good the way the trunks of autumn trees

Turn dark in autumn rain; the way the leaf
Sits trembling in the wind; the smell of frost.
In all the fields of hell, there are no bees.

Dan Gunter

About the Author

Dan Gunter

Dan Gunter was born in southeast Missouri. After a half-career spent on the margins of academia, he now practices law in Seattle. His poetry has appeared in a number of online magazines.

Email: dgunter57@comcast.net