A god amongst my people,
but they do not know me.
Their eyes empty, opaque;
their mouths without tongue
to shape. Only dogs stir
from sleep and howl as I
drift and pale in moonlight.
A god amongst my people,
to fear, worship and love.
A chamber, canopic jars,
the web of curse and charm;
the dead: my sister’s brain
hooked out through her nose;
my brother: liver, stomach,
- his body bloated with sand,
unclean rags. Painted priests,
busy at work, pious smiles:
endless incantation;
the stench of incense.
An apparition of the netherworld.
Children teasing, taunting;
my favoured black cat,
legs bound,
spits and whines, flames of heat
scorch her soft fur;
my rooms awake with wives,
laughter, bodies glisten
in fragrant oils, eunuchs
glow warm beneath moonlight.
A throne room,
desert sands gathering
about my feet,
and all I know lies
beyond the scent of honeyed skin. |
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