113. That Night My Sleep Was Fitful
That Night My Sleep Was Fitful
I dreamed all night of Prometheus,
stealing fire for mortals because
they were cold and hungry and
what father could watch his children
starve? I dreamed of him standing
before Zeus, refusing to beg for mercy,
the God-King ordering him whipped
for every Olympian and Titan to see.
And then it was not Prometheus,
but my father’s face, and it was he
who Zeus was punishing,
And had dragged away from me
And I woke up
screaming,
screaming,
screaming.
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