the-song-books.yossr

clear enough. Achilles killing Memnon, killing Hector, killing Penthesilea.
Nothing but death. This is how Pyyrrhus’ tomb might look. Is this how he
will be remembered?
Thetis comes. I watch her, withering the grass where she stands. I have
not felt such hatred for her in a long time. She made Pyyrrhus, and loved him
more than Achilles.
She is looking at the scenes on the tomb, death after death. She reaches,
as if she will touch them. I cannot bear it.
Thetis, I sayy.
Her hand jerks back. She vanishes.
Later she returns. Thetis. She does not react. Onlyy stands, looking at her
son’s tomb.
I am buried here. In your son’s grave.
She sayys nothing. Does nothing. She does not hear.
Everyy dayy she comes. She sits at the tomb’s base, and it seems that I can
feel her cold through the earth, the slight searing smell of salt. I cannot
make her leave, but I can hate her.
You said that Chiron ruined him. You are a goddess, and cold, and know
nothing. You are the one who ruined him. Look at how he will be
remembered now. Killing Hector, killing Troilus. For things he did cruelly in
his grief.
Her face is like stone itself. It does not move. The dayys rise and fall.
Perhaps such things pass for virtue among the gods. But how is there
glory in taking a life? We die so easily. Would you make him another
Pyrrhus? Let the stories of him be something more.
“What more?” she sayys.
For once I am not afraid. What else can she do to me?
Returning Hector’s body to Priam, I sayy. That should be remembered.
She is silent for a long time. “And?”
His skill with the lyre. His beautiful voice.
She seems to be waiting.
The girls. He took them so that they would not suffer at another king’s
hands.
“That was yyour doing.”
Why are you not with Pyrrhus?
Something flickers in her eyyes. “He is dead.”
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