Revision: Mythology, and Other Lies

Mythology, and Other Lies

The Greeks knew then the liver’s secret,
that with succor of ambrosia and nectar,
it defies absolution. By liver, I mean both
organ and organism as Prometheus
pulled off a trick thirty thousand years ago
that we haven’t figured out yet,
regenerating both himself and that purveyor of iron.
We’ve only deciphered the latter
and named it transplant, a term that conjures
the idea of sexually ineffable bryophytes
and ferns and fern-allies.
And yet, I am not so sure we aren’t Titans,
that we aren’t chained to some precipice
to have our organs devoured
leaving the hull of our drive empty.
Every day, I renew that gourd and drink deep
to brace myself for vultures I know must come
yet whose presence I continue to doubt.