In the Gods

By | 14 December 2009

in the gods
left eardrums a whisper, the caterers want to know where to put the profiteroles –
its over forty degrees & they wont fit in the bar fridge?
but I’m distracted by the scent of Christmas ivy
It’s already stuffed with Tantalus’s tantalising morsels
disappearing down the black hole in your
They’re up there, all right, in the roof playing scrabble.
I can hear their hooves scraping against the floorboards.
molecules of ordinary blood
in skirts of expanding metal
piercing the arteries of average thought
in gods in their black hole behind the
controls of the space-ship crash landed in the
messenger wings, hermetically sealed. Crowed Hermes, “speak not.”
And in the retorts, distillations missile towed the past into present
where gods wear HERMES jeans and angels
strut runways with gel-filled busts
and three gods strapped in loose C4, with loose ideals
choreographed the night away
splendid, splendid was the cry from the ageing onlookers
and the musicians still played, the dancers danced, the First Fleet socialites
sipped absinthe with grand stares so grand even the Gods were scared
identities and futures knocked akimbo over Avalon
drunk in a shadow of summer, never recalled
always lost, like a thylacine’s take on tomorrow
these bitter dreams sleep under time
speaking through artesian bores
and spilling into the sheep
until we wear them, walk in bitter dreams
only to wake (in pastoral
habiliment, the wake still ahead, the scent of mourners
teenage boys fumble heaven breathlessly while
improbably upholstered goddesses stride the screen
the cheapest thrills are the imagined kind
and way back there
where the gods are wearing
HERMES
there’s an old lady grumbling
that they must have won
the lottery
– and so they did: now for estate planning, inheritance taxes, write-offs
A scandal, perhaps a miracle
perhaps an operatic ballet composed by a monkey-dog with the aid of a cat-swan,
‘appalling’ was the only word from the critics, an hour of booing from the gods
resulted in the storming of the stage, but on that night
earmarked for destruction

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