Prometheia

[busker]

Prometheia ... knowing about the legend is one thing, about the festival is another. Still, it's up to the reader to know these things.


The eagle sinks its beak into his side  ... given the title, this is too cliched an opening
and he no longer screams nor even groans,
the only sounds to be heard are the bird of prey

tearing his liver to shreds---the stretching of sinews
and squelching of squirty veins---as well as the wind
howling across the canyon where Qaydukh's elbow  ... the first two strophes retell the same well known legend. 

once shone as the moon to guide her foolish husband
when he rode out to plunder herds of cattle.
At first she blamed the raptor for his death,

the spreading of its wings an untimely cloud,
but she could not deny how much he grated
with his incessant boasting: she had to leave,

again in the garb of a man, and find herself
another partner in crime. For years, she ranged
from bed to bed, until she found Sozruquo  ... this is mere retelling of a related legend, or the legend itself, isn't it? Not sure what's in there for the reader

whose eyes were sharp, whose words were meek in scale,
whose cloak was a roof, and whose breath was a hearth in the rain---
meanwhile, the eagle finds a broken chain,
and now there is only the wind across the vale.  ...'now there's only wind across the vale' fits the meter better, at least to me. 

Another NaPM entry.

Hi River - didn't enjoy this one much except for the last line. It's either telling something three levels deep and the allusions escape me, or it's merely retelling the tale.