poetry friday

This poem has many excellent qualities, but what I really like about it is that it's fun to read the first time through, and subsequent re-readings reveal many surprises, especially in the rhythms of the lines and the subtle turns of colloquial speech.

The Cyclop's name was Polyphemus.


Song of the Cyclops

I’m tired. Why sing when there’s no one
To sing to? Everyone knows me; I’m "famous".
No one wants to listen though. Why is that?
So I got "one round eye." So I never cut my hair.

I used to sing. Played music too. Especially
When I was in love with that sea nymph Galatea.
She toyed with me, led me on. She was cruel.
“You can’t play me like a pipe, wretched woman!”

That’s what I said when I saw her make out
with that guy Acis, right in front of my bases.
Someone stole my pain for his own damn gain.
So I picked up a boulder and smashed his head.

Then I returned to my flock. Yes, I’m a Shepard.
No, I never made any iron tool for the gods. No
Thunderbolts for Zeus. Those were my grandfather’s
Grandfather, or something. I don’t care.

Story goes, this heartbreak of mine made me a mean
Monster who loved to eat people. That’s bullshit.
Yes, I eat people. I like people. They’re tasty.
You never took a bite of beef, fish, chicken? It’s all meat, man.

One night I came home to find a pile of people
Resting in my cave. Enough to feed me for a week.
I ate two for dinner, two for breakfast. I came home
And ate two more again. Then they got me drunk.

Wine makes me weak. “What’s your name?”
I asked the leader. “No one” he said, trying to trick me.
It worked. I was dozing off when I felt a hot poker driving
Through my eye. The bonehead blinded me.

Man, I screamed so loud my friends came running, asking,
“Who hurt you?” All I could say was “no one.” So they walked
away. Then the men escaped by hiding under my sheep.
I prayed Poseidon would take revenge. I hear he took it.

Eyeless. That’s when I became really, too damn tired.

-- Josh Gray