January’s poetry

… reminisces about the Trojan Horse.

I’ve begun watching The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, my first “real housewives”-type show. The religious angle picqued my interest. (The mountains are nice, too.)

So far, I’ve been struck by:

(a) The Jesus artwork in the McMansions.

(b) The very early marriages (late teens for the women). Performed in the Temple.

It’s hard to see how Mormonism or anything Christian has anything else to do with these people’s lives, even as a force to be reacted against. The characters make some half-baked references to resisting the patriarchy, but it’s clear that they just do whatever feels good at the time.

Or whatever makes money for them on TikTok.

Anyway, here is the poetry. The Greeks could have starred in one of these shows.

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But Helen, child of Zeus, had other ideas.
She threw a drug into the wine bowl
They were drinking from, a drug
That stilled all pain, quieted all anger
And brought forgetfulness of every ill …

“… I couldn’t begin to tell you
All that Odysseus endured and accomplished,
But listen to what that hero did once
In the land of Troy, where the Achaeans suffered.
First, he beat himself up – gave himself some nasty bruises –
Then put on a cheap cloak so he looked like a slave,
And in this disguise he entered the wide streets
Of the enemy city. He looked like a beggar,
Far from what he was back in the Greek camp,
And fooled everyone when he entered Troy.
I alone recognized him in his disguise
And questioned him, but he cleverly put me off.
It was only after I had bathed him
And rubbed him down with oil and clothed him
And had sworn a great oath not to tell the Trojans
Who he really was until he got back to the ships,
That he told me, at last, what the Achaeans planned.
He killed many Trojans before he left
And arrived back at camp with much to report.
The other women in Troy wailed aloud,
But I was glad inside, for my heart had turned
Homeward, and I rued the infatuation
Aphrodite gave me when she led me away
From my native land, leaving my dear child,
My bridal chamber, and my husband,
A man who lacked nothing in wisdom or looks.”

And Menelaus, the red-haired king:

“A very good story, my wife, and well told.
By now I have come to know the minds
Of many heroes, and have traveled far and wide,
But I have never laid eyes on anyone
Who had an enduring heart like Odysseus.
Listen to what he did in the wooden horse,
Where all we Argive chiefs sat waiting
To bring slaughter and death to the Trojans.
You came there then, with godlike Deiphobus.
Some god who favored the Trojans
Must have lured you on. Three times you circled
Our hollow hiding place, feeling it
With your hands, and you called out the names
Of all the Argive leaders, making your voice
Sound like each of our wives’ in turn.
Diomedes and I, sitting in the middle
With Odysseus, heard you calling
And couldn’t take it. We were frantic
To come out, or answer you from inside,
But Odysseus held us back and stopped us.
Then everyone else stayed quiet also,
Except for Anticlus, who wanted to answer you,
But Odysseus saved us all by clamping
His strong hands over Anticlus’ mouth
And holding them there until Athena led you off.”
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From the Odyssey, bk. 4, ll. 200–300 (approx.). Translated by Stanley Lombardo.