TIMEO DANAOS ET DONA FERENTES

Rotten sods

The very clever Iain Colley's deservedly winning entry of the Literary Review's July 2007 'Night & Day Poetry Prize' - subject 'The Gift' - expertly judged by Tom Fleming.

Passed to me by discerning Corfuchsia Irregular, Mia Bourloyiannis.

"They've got a word - 'hubristic'. That was us.
We thought they'd done their worst and gone away,
stymied by Trojan resolution. Plus
they'd left this wooden horse as if to say
'you win' - dirty great thing, we never thought
we'd get it through the gate. Although we did,
and what a dumb move that was. We got caught,
just when we were rejoicing we'd got rid.
The doom-and-gloom Laocoön was right
(much good it did him though) . The bloody horse
was packed with squaddies armed and fit to fight.
That's Greeks for you - low cunning and brute force,
a deadly combination. Bid adieu,
then sneak back in mobhanded. Rotten sods.
I figured 'nemesis' (that's their word too)
and legged it pronto, praying to the gods
those hoplites wouldn't catch me, spent a week
holed up in someone's cellar. We were stiffed,
and no mistake. So never trust a Greek,
even when he is handing you a gift."