Helene (of Sparta)

I wake to a clammy palm covering my mouth

Paris’ eyes are feverish,

Possessive and possessed

Coarse fabric chafes against my cheeks

And bloodied wrists

My husband sleeps while I’m carried away


The ship reeks of rotting wood and fish

They treat me like a whore,

Leering at me

I feel fingers on my skin

Even as I sleep with the door locked,

One person with keys


Paris visits me every night,

But I am not clay to be molded

Into a royal Trojan concubine

I am not a trinket to be stolen

And added to a collection

Of beautiful things


Know that when I’m let off this ship

That I can’t be tamed

I am not an animal or wild thing

For you to shape in your image

I will burn Troy with nothing

But a candlestick


Recent Posts

See All

Playing Guns

We played guns in the backyard, taking cover in the suburban rubble of rusted water heaters, broken bicycles, and empty cattle trailers. Our orange-tipped barrels targeting each other with naive finge

Picnic Parenting

I. I wear a potato salad smile, yellow Kind of squishy but soft like a “my mom makes it better” – don’t you know? Still disappointing, but a quiet type Like you were expecting not to taste What you wa

Questions? Contact us!

Kolob Canyon Review is a literary magazine of and for Southern Utah University’s students, faculty, staff, and alumni. As a student-managed project, KCR provides real-world experience in publishing and editorial practices. We promote and present SUU’s best written and visual creative works, serving as an entry point for creative writers and visual artists. 

REVIEW

Love us? Connect and let us know!

  • Twitter
  • Instagram