Hetaerae

Hetaerae

Ashes on embers now
Not rekindled
In this house of a thousand women,
A thousand nights
And a thousand fat men
I remembered the one who gave me a boon--
Jewel-encrusted at bottom
Heady, sweet
Amber and almonds
The scent we scrubbed ourselves to be
The cave of our insides
That we veiled with incense.
I remembered once
Dog-on-the-Rug
He always brought it with him
As we made the gamos
(The first time, the dog thought I was dying when I cried out).
Warm baths anticipated,
Sleep, clouded by the right roots.
I was the fire when I was hetaerae
I was most-loved
Because I had the names of the Most Mighty
Etched into my skin.
Today, they will not grant me burial
In their necropolis.
Their horses trod over the soil that honored us, night by night
Their prophet says
“Love in this way bars you
From We Who Are Clean.”
Goodnight, goodnight
Remember the ember of my aeon.
When the Most Mighty was kissed in words on my skin.
“It is written.”
It is written.
Pricked onto me with blood.
Before this, I was queen
In the house of a thousand women.
3/8/11