Brave Hector brought a spear and thought to brawl
outside the walls of Troy beseiged. He held
it loose and felt the grain warm in the grip
of fingers born for battle, borne to throw.
The shaft was dense and smooth, both long and tall.
War-polished in both wood and bronze, it spelled
the doom of all who’d come by horse and ship
to face him in his scorn. How could he know?

Achilles, he had come that day with “Spear
for spear and shield for shield!” carved on his heart.
And mad with grief he howled with his whole breath,
“Come to me, Son of Troy, and bring your fear!”

Andromache felt her whole reason part
for in that voice, she heard her husband’s death.