Anne Pluto



I was very happy to run into you that rainy Cambridge morning at Starbucks.

You were a wonderful teacher.



Anne Elezabeth Pluto, PhD


Artistic Director, Oxford Street Players of Lesley University

33 Mellen Street

Cambridge, MA 02138


Here's a couple of poems



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



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


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


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


oh, she’s alive

in Aulus

did you really think

Artemis, that moon girl goddess

would kill such a



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