Achilles, The Bees - Carol Ann Duffy

Myth's river — where his mother dipped him,

fished him, a slippery golden boy —

flowed on, his name on its lips.

Without him, it was prophesied,

they would not take Troy.

Women hid him, concealed him in girls' sarongs;

days of sweetmeats, spices, silver song . . .

but when Odysseus came,

with an athlete's build, a sword and a shield,

he followed him to the battlefield,

the crowds' roar,

and it was sport, not war,

but charmed foot on the ball . . .

but then his heel, his heel, his heel . . .