top of page
Writer's pictureFinnbar Howell

Hyperion


“What is your name?” 

I finally asked 

on that cold 

and hopeless morning,

as we stood 

naked on the hilltop, knowing

we were irredeemable.

 

“Hyperion,” he said 

“And I am Phoebus.”

 

We cast off those vibrant

lies, I baptised him 

Cain, he branded 

me Cassius, and we went

our separate ways.


I suckled on the fat 

of life thenceforth, and looked

not once, back with 

regret. There was no shame

or peculiarity in death, 

yet I told 

the Undertaker to carve

“Scorn us or envy us, 

It matters not, we who bathed

In milk, but gave up 

The sun”


 


Finnbar Howell is a writer, poet and engineer from Wicklow, Ireland. He writes both literary and speculative fiction and poetry, and has a smattering of publications over the last decade. After climate change and the rise of modern fascism, the thing that bothers him most is the homogenisation of culture globally. 


Comments


bottom of page