From swallowing the sun nightly,
Did the Egyptian goddess Nout
Ever suffer from sore throat?
While her believers mostly slept,
She rebirthed old sol back up
First thing the next each morning.
This turned out to be a more
Orderly proposition than
Might have been expected.
But we have only hindsight
Upon which to fasten here.
The bicycle of the stars
Keeps spinning, expanding
Or contracting as she wills it.
But our seat in the universe
Remains small. It has become
Overcrowded with humans and
Under-represented by gods lately.
This imbalance manifested
Soon after Hiroshima
So that no one could fail to notice
Now we have no one, thing, or animal
To which to pray.
It sounds awkward and is
To Anubis, the jackal-headed god
Who protected the dead
In the old Egyptian pyramids
Before the mummies began to rot
Under the glare of becoming Tourist attractions.
Now, the living need more
Protection from Anubis than the dead.
Does Anubis know how to oblige?
When time stops
Will there be
Some authority
Types ready to
Prod you on
Back into a
Productive or
Reproductive show?
If you're young enough
Or not yet "beyond
The point of passion"
To ask what
The point of it
Really is, your
Gonads and hormones
Will push you on
Back into the search
For the perfect love
Or sex, at least, again.
The human race insists
On continuing, possibly
Through you and
Unless you're older
Or gay wants you
In a kind of draft
You feel you have
No choice but to serve
Father or Mother Nature
So you do. For
Some this takes decades
Of experience to understand.
For others, freedom
From this kind
Of desire, at least,
Could arrive earlier,
A kind of exemption
Too early or too late
From service in
The army of man
And/or womankind.
Tom Savage has written eight published books of poems and received two grants from the Fund For Poetry.