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.