MichaelJohn Lauchlan Davis

After the Election, Reading with Students Between what is and what will come, we read Ajax aloud­—the old, dazed, blood-spattered grief, the shame lit in a day’s new light. A young man, blinking through his glasses, shapes the wail a hero makes when he learns what madness and a deity have wrought in his riven home. The light of a warm November fills the classroom. Windows frame red and gold leaves on half-bare oaks. Again, Tecmessa covers the body. Again, a brother demands funeral rites, a grave, some way to restore one sundered in a shattered land.

Crab Creek Review

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