Man of Turns

my name is known, you’ve found it on shelves and under

the cups of street magicians

i’ve slept in the arms of three witches

and stolen the second moon’s name

i’m still a long way from home

a long way from the oar on my shoulder and the wheat at my hip

i still have a few companions

left

some nights i hold my hand over my eyes like a blindfold

and pant like a dog

some nights i sink beneath the waves and

wish not to rise

i carry the bone of the cyclops

and the bag of always-wind

i dream of the night streets of Troy and Ajax’s sandals slapping on stone

i hold my hand over my eyes

and pant like a dog

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