By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
Sylvia Plath, The Hanging Man
The Greek Tragedy returns:
I should have heeded the warnings herein
of the great Medusa: that in her wrath, she
not only turns men to stone, but also reins
as poisoner of love. Not even Zeus
can outwit her destructions.
Perhaps then, the cards would have worked further in my favor
but when dealing with Apollo, who hangs suspended between
father Zeus, whose greatest weakness is mortals, and mother Hera,
a vindictive temptress who favors only herself–
the great son is doomed to failure.
There can be no other fate
than that of catastrophic proportions.
For Apollo hides his love in Narcissus behind
his cumulonimbus clouds
as he flits to and fro making airs of greatness.
O, that troubled boy with the shiny blonde curls and the
crazed blue eyes of stone,
he always saunters about looking
in earnest for the dark Dyonisian girl
to give him a home
Little does he know she is about to metamorphose
into Olympia, mother of Alexander. Keeper of
snakes and carnivorous, reptilian beings,
sorceress and seducer, nemesis of all things Apollonian.
Sonia Di Placido