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    Hymn to Isis

     

    by Stephen Zerance

     

     

    Take the pill, call it drive,
    the simple rhythm 


    played on the sistrum back and forth
    for the goddess no one has seen.

    What does Isis look like? Her faith
    in my shaven body I prep

     

    in the rear temple. Where is music

    in stomach ache? In the dream, all was good

     

    if excessive, as my inner workings 

    were on parade, colorful, loud. 


    The Oracle, what does she know
    about excess? I’m dancing

    among my minnows
    in my revels against

    God. I never trust a vision
    that comes from inside


    the earth, only the work on the body

    as I recollect Osiris,

    recovering his parts

    from the ocean until he is created.

    I remember the first time
    with purification, a member 

     

    on the rocking boat daily,
    finger to my lips to keep it secret.

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