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by phil gennuso

by phil gennuso

She stands tall on that stage,
The mountains as backdrop,
Her eyes towards the heavens,
Her arms too, imploring,
Slender and pale,
The garlands her hair,
Her tunic slight,
She sways and sweeps,
Then stops motionless,
Frozen,
Lets out a long shriek,
That fills the sky,
And wakens her antagonist,
Clytemnestra,
From her deep, deep sleep,
Her dagger still red, on both sides,
With pain and betrayal.

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