Goddesses Get Weary of Pedestals

And if I were to be placed on a pedestal

and had a choice what image is seen

 

gleaming in all the glory pedestals, or glass

houses, have to offer I would choose

 

Danaid (we know she was no

goddess) with that serpentine splendorous

 

marble spine, eyes spying upward over

my left shoulder so it seems my eyes slit

 

shut.  I know they aren’t.  I would be placed

prone on stone

 

next to Demeter’s Divine Child, trying

to regain a supine view forever.  Oh now

 

Envy, the bag overflows for greed advertising

the next great Thing people have to have but

 

should live without—poor women

make in locked buildings forced

 

to meet the quota, before the whole building

collapses on them—bought as a gift for children

 

to celebrate the day Christendom became

a conception.  There is a reason modern man

 

is constantly looking down.

It is certainly not to just look

 

at their cell phones.  Danaid can see why

over her left shoulder.

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