Hercules and the Hydra
Slaughtering your wife and sons gets you atonement in the form of 12 labours. Even though you were out of your head at the time, your body’s always primed for the work of forgiveness. And I get it—you’re the strongest, sorriest, most furious guy out there, but who goes off to fight the hydra in the nude? Nine fanged heads, two growing back for every one you chop off, until your kin says, Let’s cauterize the necks. Whew—good thinking, kid. But in this pose, one foot planted firmly, the other raised, you draw back a powerful arm wielding a club, the beast wound ‘round your knee. This must have been before the whole branding idea, because bashing the heads is a fool’s errand. But you look super determined, like, I’m beyond pissed and don’t try to tell me nothin’. Like you found a mouse in the garage and you’re just reacting with a shovel, a broom, whatever’s handy. Intelligence and forethought are not your strengths, but rash, brute force in your birthday suit? Shoot, I’m your Hercules.
Amy Debrecht received her Master of Fine Arts in poetry writing from the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Her poems and reviews have appeared in Salt Hill, Poet Lore, Sou’wester, Natural Bridge, Flint Hills Review, and Pleiades. She previously read submissions and served on the board for River Styx. Currently, she volunteers with Cinema St. Louis, curating shorts for the St. Louis International Film Festival.
The Ekphrastic Review
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