“The Arborists” by faculty member Connie Voisine
An excerpt from “The Arborists” by poetry faculty member Connie Voisine, published by On The Seawall.
The Arborists
Achilles weeps over Hector’s body, the body he had
killed for glory, revenge, to open the door to his own
prophesized, glamorous death. He weeps not for Hector
but for his own father and, truly, for himself. Priam weeps
over his son’s gorgeous corpse, so gorgeous it won’t rot.
I wish I didn’t feel sorry for warriors, but I’m listening to
Derek Jacobi tell the story, his rich English voice filling my earbuds.
I approach the trees that line the Green, where men on ropes
climb with chain saws, trimming as they mount even higher
against the woolen sky. Their confidence in their task astounds.
[…continue reading “The Arborists” at On The Seawall.]
