Estrangement in Athens

Mount Olympus held nothing for them. No occasion of theirs could provoke Magniloquent debate. Nor act require That attic of gods to come swooping Onto the field, swaying the battle. Only the great booming of the ferry As it shouldered alongside the pier; Only the waitress counting their Saucers: it was this April morning That swung them by their heels. What was missing was the impersonal, The fated, a visionary marble address, The goddess skimming over blue water To whisper good news, or some stud, Swan, or bull brimming with light. Not a wingéd foot. Only Love, Recently decamped, hovered above The table, ready to be splendid. But their ten years’ war had ended.