I don't see it happen.
They bring me his body stripped of the armour
That killed him.
I take responsibility.
I touch his chalk cheeks.
I see the blood and the scars and the
Familiar lines that mar
His very mortal face.
I see the story of Patroclus.
I love
And hate
And cry.
I curse the bitch
Aphrodite
And her servant Hector.
I keep the finished man.