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Gracie at the Siege of Troy

Upon the battered shores of Troy
did Gracie arise
from the lapping waves.

As the armies of Agamemmnon charged
the walls, Gracie followed
in their wake, the marks of
her claws in the sand
the only trace of her path,
her triangular head
split wide in a grin,
her tongue lolling
almost to the sand,
her eyes bright
and eager.

She came upon
the fallen bulk of Achilles
face down in a pool
of seafoam and blood,
his last drops of life
leaching away
from the shattered remnants
of his foot.

Any true-hearted warrior would
have ended his misery,

but Gracie
was meant
for other tasks.

So she galloped away
into the billowing steams
of war,

and there, on a nearby dune,
mighty Hector
loomed over
the beaten Petrochalus,
his sword raised
for the kill.

One with hatred,
Or at least righteous fury,
in her heart might have come
to the boy’s defense,
and struck out with crushing blows
opposing the bullying hulk,

but Gracie
was lost in other thoughts,
and she passed on,

loping along the shoreline,
where the Trojan
and Mycaenean blood

was beginning to mingle
in rivulets
of bitter wine,
and the screams
of the dying
mingled with the ravenous squawks
of circling gulls.

At last,
with the city gates
looming above her,
Gracie caught sight of her quarry.

She let loose
a howl of joy and,
as her grin enveloped her,
dashed off in pursuit,

as just beyond her reach,
cowardly Paris
ran for his life, howling
to his gods for mercy

as Gracie’s hot breath
cleaned the sand
off his untouched heels.

Geoff Blanchette is a writer and actor based in Westerly, RI

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Wanna read more? Here’s some photography in our Morality Collection by James Futrell