Anne Pluto
Hi,
I was very happy to run into you that rainy Cambridge morning at Starbucks.
You were a wonderful teacher.
Love,
Annie
Anne Elezabeth Pluto, PhD
Professor
Artistic Director, Oxford Street Players of Lesley University
33 Mellen Street
Cambridge, MA 02138
617-349-8948
Here's a couple of poems
Christmas
I’d gladly follow them
Three men from the east
having watched the moon and stars
forever searching from their Persian tower
where now their tombs stand turquoise
studded blue reaching heaven – did it burn them
into splendor when they packed their gifts
and saddled camels for the journey west
could He really have still been newborn
or was He already his mother’s splendid son
whose uncommon life and violent death had yet to
open – a book we all have read and read again.
This Christmas the story passes through me as if you
had entered - welcome home this star it burns for me
as you – brilliant golden - the light you bring me from the west
your skin as it ignites my own and turned together
into the rope of our surrender - I’d gladly follow you
this Christmas – to any manger – where they came too
and brought their gifts – for a healer, a holy man, a king.
Anne Elezabeth Pluto
The Fall of Troy
Useless; there is no god of healing in this story.
Agamemenon - Aeschylus
Ilium
a sterile promontory
where Astanax
already has been thrown
from the battlements
my aged mother
her head in ashes
weeping my sister
in law Andromache
yet another torment
for her chiseled heart
and Helen
that Greek whore
who came
among us – call her
sister – my brother Paris
hissed – NO – no sister
would sit at her loom
when men met their
doom and all for her
weaving our fates
into the fabric of
her life.
I saw it, the fall –
when I was
beloved
of the god –
He felt like light
in the dark
damp places
of my body
filling them
with life.
I refused to parent
another Helen or Achilleus.
He cursed me back
to humanity.
No one will ever believe
You – the lord of men
Agamemnon
host of the black ships
think I am crazy
a lovely plaything
cast off from a god –
Listen and know
I miss his golden
voice – the curve
of his mouth
into a smile
now the world is
dark – I see
the future in
your eyes.
My lord,
your wife will
kill us both
no, this is daring when
the female shall strike down
the male
she’s sharpened the blade
and sent your son to exile
your second daughter
haunting a palace
filled with furies
and the sacrifice
Iphigeneia
oh, she’s alive
in Aulus
did you really think
Artemis, that moon girl goddess
would kill such a
prominent
prize?
You’re all a race
of fools –full
of war
and glory –
A decade you raped
us all for Helen
now she whimpers
in her husband’s tent
my brothers are dead
my beautiful brothers
and Astanax – a child
thrown from the battlements
to his broken death
what could he possibly do?
murder you with his tears?
are you satisfied
my lord
of men?
are you satisfied
when you hold
me in the dark
heat of your
lust – I don’t think
of you
I remember
that once
I was the princess
of Troy
the priestess
of Apollo
not a slave
a war prize
the concubine
of Agamemnon,
a man marked
for a violent death.
Oh I know Greek;
I think I know it
far too well.
Anne Elezabeth Pluto
