Briseis

Briseis knew no heroes
Only men and horses and salt
She knew all sorts of thieves and liars and weaklings
Who she lay with and cleaned up after and buried
But Briseis knew no heroes
She knew Achilles
Ever since the platform
Where they lassoed her and branded her and sacrificed her like cattle
She knew Achilles with his golden curls
And his pride and his narcissism and his demands
And the hole where they said his heart would be
She knew Patroclus
With his thin legs and fingers and patience
His slippery words and brutal barters
She knew when he lied (often)
When he yearned (always)
And when he cared (never)
So Briseis knew no heroes