A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth.
Sekhmet III (Dinner with Bast)
My meal is invitation only, and I’m dressed in my best
Alabaster skin, tainted by the peel of breaking rocks out the back end of the palace
-A cradle
The savior of my enemy’s seed bull-rushing down the rapids, turning water to
Blood as he flows
-Imperial mane
Crowned by the hair that gates the underworld, a nation just like ours, heaven of hells
I draw sevens in a line, cats-eye marble and cats cradle
The goddess keeps all of our organs in little jars, and my eyes and tongue are included in the mix
-I invited an angel, but did not anticipate the angel of death
Creeping across the watery rocks like fast covid with frog fingers
I’ll invite him again once I know his name
A dinner guest to feed the bloodlust of dirty and divine
Patriarchs
Change will come
Will or will away
Onions, shallots, scallions in my coffee
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