Woman Hiding in White Is the Lonely Other

Muse, tell me the cause: how was she offended in her divinity,

how was she grieved, the Queen of Heaven, to drive a man,

noted for virtue, to endure such dangers, to face so many

trials? Can there be such anger in the minds of the gods?

                        Virgil~ Aeneid

 

 

Ah, I see the ever Hopeless Romantic—that hermit in

its own flesh—chooses flesh and sweat to be

 

the washing of our sins with mortal ties.  It

is the hopelessness of romantic plans I am

 

sick of having.  Do you forget the instructions

sung out over catgut through an open window you

 

passed by or do you just prefer that old dark bird

call?  We both remember Athena, she was a goddess

 

walking the pallid, pale, spearmint-green Panoptic halls

through which she and I once grew.  I didn’t want the word

 

Poet to rattle my bones and nauseate my belly. Back then, I

still had faith in the Republic because it feared what I feared

 

I was the most.  Have no doubt, to be feared is to be

something, even with the constant drawbacks.  So they say,

 

something is better than nothing: to be truly

Untouchable. The Capital always will kill

 

off original thoughts to keep itself going. Man, yes, you

forgot what you lose with Capital Gain.  I am always

 

the obedient slave who has to steal bread.  So take my whole

right arm, instead of just the hand.  What is

 

left is mine.  I promise to use it wisely.

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