The Wait

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The Wait


The king’s been gone a time. 

Of that there is no doubt.

 

Once again the pigs are out. 


Once again we’ve killed the pigs 

or slipped into their skin,


plucked Laerte’s fruit 

and called it anything but sin. 


If we cram the apple in our mouths 

will it keep the truth 

from spilling out?    


The king’s been gone a time. 

The whisper’s that he’s dead. 


But Eumaeus, Halitherses, 

Eurycleia. There are a few, still, 


doing what they always did.


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