315.31: Expressive Language Disorder

By Carrie A Purcell

Cassandra reflects in the mirror
that perhaps her hair had been a trifle
too wild, her words too repetitive—
only two ‘dies’ next time instead of three.
She drags a comb through shuddered locks,
considers that no curse was needed
to make her cursed; only lying prophets
are ever believed anyway.
Resolves not to count the days until
tricky Odysseus should conjure
his all conquering horse.
Resolves again against Apollo’s satisfaction
at seeing, sometime, her cower. No coward, she!
But only those watching say that,
those walking know better.