Ode to Shamhat

Debussy twinkles through my ear

Preserved like champagne

like the epic of birds courting each other

like sunlight sifting through virga

descending soft and true and timeless 

upon whatever dares grow upon this shifting planet

I haven’t read much poetry lately

But have made efforts to listen to opera

In my mind this is a fair trade

Like Wagner will lift me and nail me

Crucify and resurrect me

Like a good poem

will do

God grant me the strength of Ishtar,

The “fear me” sexuality of a goddess who is twins only

With Death.

I have no great fame

No stone walls, statues, or shrines dedicated

to the hearts of men I have claimed

No, I am not carved in clay and stolen

From my homeland during war,

Only to be recovered, broken into fourteen immaculate pieces

In the trunk of some thief’s car.

Please don’t put me in a museum.

Bear me away in a casket of lapis lazuli

Float me downriver on a bed of woven reeds, adorned

in golden jewelry, naked but for the skin of a lion

(just one of my previous brushes with death)

Rub oils into my hair and whisper words into my ear

Until a maggot crawls out of my nose:

Then you will know that I am dead.

When I am dead, let there be poetry

And Debussy, and Wagner

And most of all, let them eat cake

To remember a time when the animal in man could be abandoned 

Only at the loins of a woman

A harlot, voluptuous virgin

Who knows what she is, and takes it

Who knows how the world moves, and spins it

Who knows her place, and tastes it

Let me know a time like that

Even if only

In death.

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Published by Hannah

Just yer average girl next door.

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