(Poem) Supernatural by Robin Scofield

Philae Temple Egypt Goddess Isis As Angel Mural Artwork. From Wiki Commons
Philae Temple Egypt Goddess Isis As Angel Mural Artwork. From Wiki Commons

Isis grows tomatoes in the sugar skull of the Beloved

who hangs onto a vine that climbs the gravestone

where he delivers the quick and the dead, chivalrous,

blessing every session with the wick and the creed,

bread and hunger both used to induce visions that

applaud the Goddess of all that is and was, and he, missing

his one member the fish ate, not out of hate

but instinct that ruins all the soldiers who need

closure after they come back from war.

Tell them every lesion ends in its season.

 

With blind eyes, the bats of summer

hear everything fall, even the meteors,

dust of the comet left in Orion

in your sight the night of the full moon

if only you’d look up on Transmountain

Road where the trucks roll on by, not

stopping to look into the stone’s eyes,

and blink you’ve missed it, because

the Amber Moon’s on the rise, right

as the sun goes whirling, turning, and

speeding through the outer arms

of the Milky Way, what a highway—

you can see the backbone of the skyway

and that quick flash of rock, ice, and dust

falling in a parabola into the Earth’s orbit,

spinning its way around the black hole

the event horizon gives definition to

and photons, mesons, bosons, and neutrinos

on the edge of existence, the full moon,

and Isis, Goddess of what is.

 

Read Meet Mago Contributor Robin Scofield.