“You ready for this?”
Herakles emptied his cup,
wiped the wine from his beard,
and said, “I was born ready.”
“There’s no one I’d rather have at my side
for the end of all things, brother, than you.”
Dionysos said, fastening his foxskin cape in place,
and his ivy-crown. They clasped fists
and turned to greet their people.
Hermes, Harlequin, Phalanx and Mark Antony,
all four wearing wolf-heads, clashed their shields
and the vast, uncountable host that Dionysos
had collected from different times and lands,
began to shout their war-cry as they waited for
burning Olympos to fall.
