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Chieron’s Knee

j. novalis wolfe

When they rushed the cave of Phocus, brandishing
Firebrands of uprooted pine, it was because
Of Dionysus in waiting. And fate
Did ensue: strong wine, like the Hydra’s poisoned

Entanglement, now Herakles’ terrible tipped
Invention—those intended arrows—ended
Oreus and Hylaeus, their lives run through:
Guts flailing, hooves and heads smashed on the crumbly

Talus slopes of Mount Pelion. Robust creatures
Yes, though did succumb to allurement of strong wine
Left by a fateful god. Yet was it more
Than that, the stolen communal wine? Its real

Effect was due not to original sin
But collateral damage: a hateful arrow
Deceived its archer toward Chieron’s knee.
When Herakles realized his grave mistake,

He loosed his bow, then attended his dear friend;
More human than equine, more godlike
Than human, now howling mesmeric irony
As though spawned by some outward force what it is

To be a king of centaurs denied our proper
Death. Things must bear Time’s end with time. Alas
Phocus, and even the son of Thetis, too,
Would come to know this fallible truth.

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