After John Collier’s Clytemnestra after the Murder, 1882
when her eyes are that wide she’s telling you it’s not fear it’s not regret it’s not horror when blood tumbles from a quenched axe she’s telling you it trickles over marble a jewelled stream ornamental like she is never going to be again; she holds back the gilded curtain torches blaze behind her brilliant hair, golden diadem darkness seething & do we revile at the hint of a necessary crime?
Featured image held in the public domain via Wikimedia.
