Monday, January 25, 2010

Making Aphrodite, or, A Recipe For Disaster

"poikilothron athamat Aphrodita,pai Dois
doloploke,lissomaise,me m'aisaisi med onaisi damna..."*

The rooms become aquatic,
High heat and holy days,
Scent fills the house;
A wave cresting and cresting.
Fish explore the furniture,
Pearls set up shop in tea cups,
Octopi move into the dishes in the sink.
It all boils together--
Semen and tears,
That dash of blood salted with the doom of Gods;
Leaving us unmade as the beds we depart,
Smelling of oceans,
The sheets turned to shrouds in their bare awkwardness.



*
"Ornately throned deathless Aphrodite,
wile weaving daughter of Zues,
I beg you, don't overcome my spirit
with pain and care..."
Sappho 1


c. 1/23/10

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