as her ladies paint
her blue blood on her lips
“queens die like this:
with the theatrics
of the crowning ceremony
and the proud negligence
of the morning toilette:
the gods-awful magnificence
of a wrist-flick:
draw me my milk bath,
bring me my venom pills.”
to become immortal, you must devour
the gods. begin with the god of fear
and when the god of the nile
floods your heart's temple
lay your offerings underwater.
a pharaoh's tomb:
the i interred in immortality.
The desert is not the grave of the sea.
The heaving reign of pharaohed seas,
Rule in bloodline of palm wine and embalming fluid of brine.
The tides are their mummified lips,
Whispering the coming forth of spells eternally to the sky.
All goddesses, like shawled Isis, in lamentations of hair
And past-wept somnolence for Egypt,
Lie across the heart-bound murmur of waters
From their dead kings and the kingly divine, Amun-Ra,
Whose bird-starred eyes fill the canopic jar of the cosmos.
The sea is the grave of the desert.
“Palm wine” and spices were used to rinse out the abdomen of the remains.
The Egyptian Book of the Dead was a phrase coined in the 19th century. A more literal translation is The Book of Coming Forth by Day or Spells for Going Forth by Day.
The heart was actually the only ***** left intact in the mummified dead. The other organs were kept in canopic jars though some were rebound and reinserted into the mummified remains.
For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at chrissaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
Her eyes are the lighthouse of the Pharos,
Alexandrian, bronze-mirrored fire flung round
The gloaming coastal sorrow like sand-glittered spears.
Her praying mantis limbs of light,
Sever-poised for needlepoint strike
At the jeweled glint of wings in dim, rare-seen limits,
Now one with her rasping sea of scarab beetle husks.
So blind, the blind despairs.
So wicked, ***** grieves.
So indistinguishable from evil,
their judgement of evil, truly just.
So indistinguishable from their ruthless enemy,
the utter destruction decreed shall befall both suddenly.
The aggrieved weeps.
The wicked hardens.
Wickedness upon wickedness.
Endurance beyond Lot's,
given, the righteous' lot.
The desert is a hummingbird
With wings of hovering heat.
Forever in love with the acanthus leaf
And the nectar of the far Aegean.
The Dipper turns
Above the mighty sphinx
To fill the Nile for the autumn
Winter and spring
Oh what a site.
Cleopatra, like Caesar my heart concedes
And even though it is only one sided
The hardest quest would be to get you out of my head
Always dedicated to all your needs
Infamy I have bestowed upon myself
The fire burning the hearth of my soul, never dimming
I would give my self to you for your trimming
A romance that you would leave on a shelf
Cleopatra you are the most pure, the most precious
For your happiness I would play the vicious
To be your obsession I would be cottonweed
Wondering if I have truly spoke with you
Could it be that I mirrored myself unto you
Veritably it is not love but only greed