But oh , holy , to be crowned not by burning ships , poets ’ ecstasy , vainglorious heroes , gods ’ idle chatter or men ’ s violence , but by her resonant , perfect kiss , lingered over , devoured , holy . Rose-water sweet . Remembered . This memory the only responsibility I accept .
Cassandra : This memory the only responsibility I accept : from amidst the fractured cavalcade of memorial , dystopic list , burned dream , psychic break , I linger over one perfect phosphorized moment when the moon pulsed lilac and I took courage from my futures and pasts : shook out my love for her . The present dims in recognition and I try not to adore my restraints , marking time between
Troy ’ s astonishment and Mycenae ’ s death . Cousins bolt , sisters sugar blister , fathers sacrifice themselves for air , and I look forward , never back , curse my serpent tongue , deny it even fragrant bliss . Survival , mutilation worse about to be delivered , the welcome by invidious wives :
I arrive under the “ protection ” of a man .
32 Cauldron Anthology