from (C)OVID's METAMORPHOSIS, Book the First

The Giants’ War 

They threw viruses at us, the great 
pricks of the needle
nosed dolphins that swarmed 
the Megacruise & died
of disgust, their last songs trilling 
into the thread of the world
re: re: re: re: re: re: re: re: working 
from home if you can call it 
that when no fires burn 
but the wolf won’t come down
the chimney anyway because he can 
see that hearth’s just s looped gif
which is pronounced weltanshaunng
just like Worcestershire & pandemic
which rhymes with pandemonium 
which is just where the devil went 
to wait for the liquor store to open 
again & the Louvre & the opera houses 
& the slot machines at Caesars Palace. 
Somewhere in the darkness,
a gambler checked his condition 
& found it wretched & so he retched,
violently, tasting yesterday’s  lamb kabob 
from the cart in the lobby.  He can’t remember
when he turned from the blazing world’s
clanging slot machines & wandered instead
from one drive-thru wedding chapel
to another: it’s late & he’s weary, 
wearing doctor’s scrubs as fetish gear. 
He keeps searching for whatever
keeps him afloat down this life’s relentless stream:
the Furies are relentless & there’s another Furry 
convention arriving tonight.

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