The Death Of Cleopatra

Neferotic clasping – grasping
hand upon her smitten wrist;
slither, fangs ‘n fated coil kept
hidden ‘neath the fig-tree’s fruit.

Venomous aspis – cobric hood
held flat against the west-faced head
of Ra’s Uraeus, bowing to the Duat-
doom of the End Of Cycles.

Goddess Who Loves Her Father falls
into the waiting flood – primeval.
Her dissolution – desolate; her
baby at her breast, asleep.

Th’intrinsicated, wawtry knot
of ma’at merged with chaos
dances to her mind’s eye, ‘midst the crown
swept over by the lev’ling sands.

Atum, Osiris, Nun’s primord’yul
depths: on, over Egypt came
this tide, reclaiming time ‘n taking
meaning from the lightless ‘glyphs.

She-wolves did roam ‘n prowl across
the Two Lands, as her tresses fell.
Unkempt, the pharaoh’s hair, dark as the
diskless sky, did dress her form.

The pulseless puncture points witnessed
the paling of her ochre skin.
The keening of her ent’rage quaked great
waves to sink the harbour isle.

Lay she, the Ptolemaic king,
with fingers to the marble floor,
her feet undecorated and their
soles no longer earthward tethered.

Three thousand times renewed, the fertile
cycle sees its soil depleted.
The tears of Isis lost
amongst the fallen rain…


Image creditwomennart

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