from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fifth

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

skull goblet.

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from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fifth

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