Sophia Nugent-Siegal: ‘Poseidon or Zeus’ and ‘Osiris’

Osiris 

Over his suddenly virginal limbs

breathes sullied air,

Made from her tears,

Stitched and weaved,

Woman’s work.

But he has left

The statue in his tomb

Whose mouth is open

And is no longer hungry.

He is a creature,

Monumental as the wind,

Unshakeable as an earthquake.

He has become a certainty

And should not be mourned.

Now he is abstract as the postmodern,

And unreal as the sea.

The blood is white as marble.

                        Sophia Nugent-Siegal

Poseidon or Zeus

They dredged up a god

From the sea floor

And were unsure of his identity.

What did he rule over,

Sea or sky?

Age and a lack of obedient worshippers

Had dulled his brilliance

And he was green as old growth.

His subjects, the waves,

Had it seems

Taken a bloody road

Through Revolution

To Republic.

Overthrowing God

Was the first thing

They had to do.

But now, he is on a plinth again,

His empty hand,

A fist punching a way through

The holes in the sky.

            Sophia Nugent-Siegal