X: The (Vainglorious) Son Proceeds

Phaëthon’s eyes blazed. He flailed the whip

across the horses’ necks, maddening them

out of their usual course, the Zodiac’s path.

Boundaries of north and south broke apart.

Hot and cold winds tangled into whirlwinds.

The goaded horses ran wildly in all directions.

“Stop this,” Morning Star warned Phaëthon.

“Quit lashing the Sun’s steeds. Beware

the constellations’ killing powers unleashed.

“Orion the Hunter’s knife can slash you.

Boötes’ oxen team can trample you.

Archer’s fire-tipped arrow can pierce you.”

Yet as the Morning Star spoke, Phaëthon

pushed his team faster and faster until finally

the very center axle of Heaven cracked.