Some
of the souvenirs began to squirm
As
hibernating gods shook off their sleep.
Their
naps had been profound, their dreams so vague,
They
didn't know where parts of them had gone;
But
shelves in Indonesia and Brazil
Let
down their severed heads; and in Duluth
And
Lower Slaughter little shiny coins
Twirled.
It was more than mildly disconcerting.
Poseidon
had a charley-horse and Dis,
Occluded
vision. Iris saw her dress
Change
colors, as the label, Roy G. Biv,
Turned
inside out and backwards. Down below,
A
village suffered instant disrepute
When
all the hausfraus ran away with birds.
In
Rome the statues changed their legal names,
And
some converted. Venus wept real tears,
The
tiny tears of dolldom, small and briny.
Green,
like the eyes which they obscured, they fell,
But
raised no fruit. It was her elder name
Which
founded Paris, where the horses reared,
And
no one knew what anything meant or cost.
The
souvenirs dissolved, and mighty Zeus
Stroked
his oiled beard, but did not wake. The heads
Of
headless torsos speechified from dust.
