A Pastiche For Eve

Unmanageable as history: these

Followers of Tammuz to the land

That offered no return, where dust

Grew thick on every bolt and door. And so the world

Chilled, and the women wept, tore at their hair.

Yet, in the skies, a goddess governed Sirius, the Dog,

Who shines alike on mothers, lesbians, and whores.

What are we governed by? Dido and Carrie

Chapman Catt arrange themselves as statues near

The playground and the Tivoli. While warming up the beans,

Miss Sanders broods on the Rhamnusian, the whole earth worshipping

Her godhead. Later, vegetables in Athens.

Chaste in the dungeon, swooning with voluptuousness,

The Lady of the Castle weds pure Christ, the feudal groom.

Their bowels almost drove Swift mad. "Sad stem,

Sweet evil, stretching out a lion's jaws," wrote Marbode.

Now we cling together in our caves. That not impossible she

That rots and wrinkles in the sun, the shadow

Of all men, man's counterpart, sweet rois

Of vertew and of gentilness… The brothel and the crib endure.

Past reason hunted. How we die! Their pain, their blood, are ours.