12/8/22
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…..She looked at me with a fierce burn in her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She was fuming. “What do you want?” I asked. “Attention,” she said. “You have it.” “Not enough. No. Not even close.” “What do you want?” I asked again. “YOU, to DIE, by GAZING INTO MY EYES.” ….
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there’s no need to
wonder
about the stone cold fate
of a human locking eyeballs
with the infamous nymph
and Queen of Snakeheads.
It is written.
there’s no cause to
speculate
as to how would fair
the gods
were one to steep down
and visit near her chambers
at dawn.
The ink speaks here, too.
And yet…
I wonder…
(and quite seriously)
what would happen
to Her Majesty of Mannish Masonry
if the gods decided to bring unto her,
inconspicuously (and probably giggling)
an unsuspecting smelly human from
Nazareth?
“From where?”
Nazareth, I say, and
add the fact he’s got
a knack for the weird
and keen set of hungry eyes
for the ones with daddy issues.
Oof. Stone cold, Zeusy.
Well, there goes that little party trick.
Shall we name it after Rome?
Who’s gonna tell Aphrodite?
—-
PS – ftr, I think he’d lock eyes with her and then probs go for a hug.
PPS – and I think that’d make her wanna run far, far away from that ever-living bastard who would not, and could not, die by her eyes.
PPPS ~ Dionysius would buy him a beer.
