It was a gold-seal ruse. A double-

dealing so sublime the gods ordained 

it. Settled into their stadium seats, 

they wagered on their favorites. Helen, 

the imposter bride, circling and circling 

the gifted horse. Her Central Casting 

lines to the shadows inside. The numbing 

non-reply.  War-weary, she fastened her 

hair in gold and dressed for a city 

ablaze. Nothing to do but wait. 

I conjured a horse on wheels, your city 

in flames. Your essay too beautiful 

to ignore: a waterfall of self-assured 

claims; the neat appraisal of ancient 

Greece. Even a summoning from the 

grave – faceless and without names – 

mentors in whose guardian light as a 

student like you, I died. My rebirth: 

years of shedding an ancestral hide,

habits of thought, pursuit of the crown. 

A history you could not have known. 

Songs of siege lines. Ruinous open gates. 

War’s grim gains. Achilles and Hector lying 

lifeless in the same wet clay. In my hand, 

a poised pen. Helen’s hairpins. 

A beautiful conceit. Her trust to leave it 

to the gods mid-play. Closure as prologue. 

Or, as you say – too old for your age – 

the difference she makes in walking away.                

Note: In academia, a "Trojan horse" refers to a professor embedding a hidden phrase within an assignment prompt to help detect plagiarism in the use of AI.