Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Forty
Spring 2016
 
Gods Will Be Gods
Flower Conroy

How does one say no
to eternal flowers

or deny a showering
of gold light?

She was a girl
who was not desired

on her own terms
& since none

refuse a god
& go unpunished,

blood coagulates
at Medusa’s severed

throat. When horses
materialized from sea

foam, or the visit came
in the form of a great

reaping breath, it
was retold over a plate

of meat & a cup of wine
to dip some crust in,

as “The rape of…
as matter of fact

as the slab table
the listeners’ elbows

& candelabras
rested upon.

Rape of Europa,
rape of Persephone.

Laying upon the grease-
stained blanket

in the back of Ron’s van,
scorpions didn’t clamber

from my lips,
arachnids didn’t stitch

cocoons in my womb.
But ophidians unfurled

from my mind,
my gaze lithified,

the sea rising
& falling, the sky

a cracking fresco.
Even the monolith

stairs in the background
& the clover-leafed

perennial lean in & gawk.
Is this what it is

to be chosen?
To be bestowed eyes

that ever after
will not close?

To mistake
hallucination for

divine revelation?
The throat grizzled

from not screaming.

About Flower Conroy

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