(a riff on Ovid, Amores II:XIII)
Lady of the flooding Nile, Isis, spare my sweetheart.
Her abortion botched -- the child's blood
seeps down her leg, the way an asp,
sleepy with dew, twines round your altar.
(a riff on Ovid, Amores II:XIII)
Lady of the flooding Nile, Isis, spare my sweetheart.
Her abortion botched -- the child's blood
seeps down her leg, the way an asp,
sleepy with dew, twines round your altar.
Wow.
If you ever feel the urge to produce a chapbook of these Ovid riffs, I'd be all over it.