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the thirteenth 1
jonathan wells
for hercules, the thirteenth labor,
is allowing the mortal lovers to go
back to their separate beds unreconciled,
to leave well enough alone,
to let their oaths uncouple
from their stars, to abandon the
strange planets
to the idiosyncrasies of their orbits.
to 2 the power that zeus
had given, hercules searches for 3
along an ordinary shore where all waves
reach their breaking point, some staring
with demonic eyes
while others lap
the beach rhapsodically.
recovering, he asks
the heavens for extra strength, not 4
of hand or muscles he’d 5 before
the golden apples of the nymphs.
he prays for
a mind that would leave the lovers
alone with their distrust.
but that is another fantasy
of self-possession, of holding himself in check,
letting love be love; love refused, or
breathing lightly or unloved
like unpicked apples. the lovers’ 8,
staccato, strike the night and he is
certain that turning away
is his one impossible labor.
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