Mythology, and Other Lies
And when I smother myself in poison,
find clumps, hills in the shower,
negotiate nausea, pain, itch
I wonder how Prometheus did it,
letting vulture consume that which he did not want
hoping to regenerate the purveyor of iron --
oh, I know of the Prometheus support groups
pre-transplant, post-transplant kumbayas --
but I defy absolution! I bathe in your
widowed, your winowed -- I roar
against cages, cells, cancers --
I am not so sure we are not Titans,
that we aren’t chained some precipice
to have our organs devoured.
Burn me, hold me, let scars radiant
beam down that valley, shadow, light.
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