Ghazal for Seven Goddesses
Pilgrims lost their way and wept, hearts broken
at the plundered tomb of their slain goddess.
Forests withered; deserts grew. Clouds stood still
for summons from a silent rain goddess.
Did you tremble before rocket engines
that ended your long lunar reign, goddess?
The old arthritic masters paint you vain,
so I near missed you dressed so plain, goddess.
Myths tell of deities for all things of
sky and sea. Come fly, oh airplane goddess.
Gasoline, butane, ethylene, your names
burn bright, oh my fiery propane goddess.
I’ll sing the verse, the chorus, chant. I’ll keep
the lonely beat for your refrain, goddess.
James Brush lives in Austin, TX, where he teaches high school English. He is the author of Birds Nobody Loves, and A Place Without a Postcard. You can find him online at Coyote Mercury, where he keeps a full list of publications.
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