Two crescents arc beneath my breasts,
little barques that hold old moons -
shadow-clones of Hathor's crimson sun,
horned crown of motherhood.
Dead women were assigned to her demesne,
as were those still aflame
with jouissance, with music and the dance;
infants and nurturers.
Enigmatic histories of female forebears hide
and seek, penumbral spheres foreshadowed
by twin crescents balancing their freight.
The cow goddess, whose horns enshrine the orb of day,
entwines the roles of mother, muse and fate.
The Cow Goddess
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110042604708
Свидетельство о публикации №110042604708
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