The Ancient Modern
Heir of Prophecies, Part VI / Joshua Alan Sturgill
The Sphinx of Nihilism strips
her clothes away, her silks and straps
and crinolines, only to reveal more
clothing beneath her clothing,
more alluring exhaustions. Spectacle
bypasses reason and conscience.
She pleasantly caresses your gut
and your groin. I can’t help myself
you argue, never attempting to turn
your gaze. I have no choice, you plead
with yourself as you arrange the world
to accommodate your choices and
violently remove whatever comes
between you and Her. Today she is
Helen; yesterday was Ganymede;
tomorrow, Hermaphroditus. In her
rear lion’s feet, she holds out shining
iron bands. She leans close to wrap them
around your eyes. Flattered, you accept.
You believe she kneels down
to crown you as her lord
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