Saturday, November 15, 2014

UNTITLED (HYDRA OR THE HERO)


Some of Hydra’s heads were high
Others were sulking low
I hoped then he had mind to discuss
The fire that burns lovers whole

Too hard a feat to love the beast himself
As each gape frothed and foamed
Yet I sat and watched his door
All the while my hydraula moaned

For lovers are beastly just as he
Their hearts’ heads snap the same
And so I looked to him to commiserate
On the hero’s ego, that perplexing tome

But even the beast could not see
He, like the hero, was blinded by flesh
(The fire that burns a hero burns a beast)
Water and blood flooding like bile to retch  

And as none of the quiet in the cosmos
Could ever pacify either heart
I sat as the sun lost the earth
Seeing only Hydra’s heads depart

Then rise and rise and rise
Sharp and unfeeling as a mathematician’s eyes

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