Poetry: Weeping with Arthur

Watching from the hill the tired king

contemplated another battle of his kin

against those errant legends without names.

Witnessing the bluish paste for Gawain’s breast

as he had of cardinals and many a vassal

once again he let go of his hold and collapsed.

He remembered many a tale of Charlemagne

and his thousand troupes fainting, screaming

upon hearing of a nephews’ demise.

So many times before had he shown his grief

all powerful as he had ever been in his realm

little boy still roaming the fields with a kind magician.

From Avalon where he spends the sleep of the righteous

again the good lord sheds insatiable tears

while in this obscure world great men laugh.

He considers the bright weapons of the new age

dreaming of the days when he invented chivalry

and men could sigh for the loss of a dreaded foe.

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.