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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