Iphigenia, with your sloping eyes
and tripping, lively, lovely name,
blushing bride turned lamb for slaughter,
murdered on your wedding day

Iphigenia, the favoured priestess
devout and born from strength,
but it was not enough to stop the stumble
that would signify your untimely death

Iphigenia, star-crossed with a goddess
and double-crossed by a father
to be wedded to the best of the Greeks,
but the huntress demanded slaughter  

Iphigenia, can you forgive me?
you were only a girl, still tied down by youth,
slain on an altar, to be another victim of war
and I didn’t stop the hands that grasped you.