On the evershifting river's edge.
in the shadow
of future pyramids,
Isis weeps for Osiris,
clutching the gory bites
of her cannibalized love
in small, tear-stained hands.
Her black hair curtain
flows like a river
raging tenderly,
bathing the lost god's
dismembered corpse
in the wine of remembrance,
her history residing
in the scintillating rays
of his infrequent smiles.
Carnal knowledge incarnate,
she incubates her god,
feeling him form in her.
Isis, belligerent and bulimic,
gorges on his salty,
insufficient flesh
hoping to ingest
enough masculinity
to regurgitate him
naked, perfect and whole.
On her knees
on burning sand,
Isis chokes
on blood and semen;
convulsed by revulsion,
yet compelled to re-enact
this postcoital flesh feast.
Sticking her tallow- stained hand
down her own throat,
Isis shudders
from the self-inflicted
violence of Osiris' creation
and vomiting bone and gristle,
sacrifices herself
to give Osiris life.
First Published in the Maine Review 1997
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