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  • 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. 


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