Calliope sings: Cupid makes Dis fall in love
Trapped under this mountain of debt, I call out
to Aetna’s customer service reps only
to be denied even the faintest of praise
for my branded abdomen.
I’m fucking Dis
custed, in this
dress. Trust me,
I’m a doctor of calligraphy, & I have embellished
what my mother called cuss words w/ such flourish
as to render them transcendent. There are two wolves
inside of me & each of them
demands his own weighted blanket.
The yeomen gather in the background
so their shirts can serve as green screens.
Keep the camera on the action &
& let the aardvarking bend & swerve.
The only emperor is the emperor of Lubriderm.
Calliope sings: Dis and the rape of Proserpine
Plant abundant shrubbery to hedge against
the prying eyes of the incels who squat
two houses down and on the left. It’s right
& proper to strike the earth when you’re in danger
of being subsumed into somebody else’s drama:
unleash the alligators even if the moat
is still filling slowly from the garden hose.
Let their chariot be swallowed headlong
by the sarlacc you imported before the tariffs
became too burdensome & lift your horn
like an anacrhonism straight to something
just like heaven but made from mycoprotein.
The antlered hear appears just below
the grate: we’ve got Charmin down here
& the rest is history & by history I mean
something well-documented that may
or may not have happened. Turns out
she really just wanted to watch
the third season of Stranger Things
& freeze the rivers while she counts
all the rainbow nerds in the crystal