A Modern Day Greek Epic


Destiny

was young,

dreaming of

a one-way ticket

out of that one-street town

when Momus rolled past

on his Brain Eraser motorcycle

having left the first wife,

three children,

and Patty Feathers

a stripper with nine cats

who’d kept him in designer clothes.

 

Later that night

head in the clouds, fantasizing about

her eighteenth birthday, leather

boots, and boys, Destiny pushed

through the beaded curtain, into the backroom

of Zeus’s Everything Shop,

meeting Momus for the first time,

a towel wrapped around his waist

his moist skin scrubbed and sweet smelling.

His jive as smooth as the bike he rolled in on.

The choking fat joint he offered her, rejected.

 

Momus plowed every juicy female

that crossed his path; he tried to win

Destiny that way too, but she

snubbed the ride, provoking the quest.

 

Soon they met at local bar Grub Street,

drank shots chased with ALPHA, a rare lager.

Shot for shot

they drank, until a bleary-eyed Momus

begged her to drive him home.

He’d captivated her

by walking a lobster on a leash,

hustling drunks for money as he

fed them the cherrystones,

the lobster cracked with its claw.

And stunned her when he reached

under her shirt, exposing her

to the bartender, like she

was the prize at an outlaw-biker rally.

 

Momus, the bad boy,

had promised her the world

filled her with excitement.

Hunger she’d craved like an addict.

Soon Destiny agreed to tie the knot,

and cunning Momus became her god.

His passion was both hypnotic and biting.

His commands bled from her ears,

his mark he branded deep,

lest she’d forget her place.

 

Her fate beyond dark

when Momus repeatedly pinned

vicious notes

to a graphic sex manual

with a switchblade,

her shortcomings highlighted in red.

 

Momus the magnificent had fooled them all.

Stubborn Destiny, the neighbors,

his few friends, and his progeny

suspended inside their separate prisons,

their mutual stares submissive.

He’d plotted how he would consume each one.

The exact time he would pluck out the hearts,

gouge the eyes, eat them whole, then pry

their parts cleanly from his teeth, mint

pick expertly tossed, the celebration, grim.

 

To survive, Destiny, became a beast too.

 

She understood none of his friends

would appreciate his class of art.

The words he spewed and punched

into her face, her palette of black eyes.

The way he offended her allies.

 

Beaten down, she waited.

Ridiculed, she served.

Terrified, she paused.

 

Hopeless, she remained.

Until Zeus looked down

from Mount Olympus,

saw what Momus had wrought.

Zeus, seeing her doom

liberating her, so that

a strong Destiny

could finally flee,

and rescue her journey.

 

Momus, however, remained the same.

 

He continued to lament, boast and blame.

He declared he’d grown humble

after Destiny left; his new

conquest, a weak substitute.

He professed to all who could hear

that he still loved his Destiny

but years had passed

and his Destiny,

forever gone,

was no longer his to claim.

Though she’d soldiered through the worst,

Momus grudgingly had to accept

his time with her

had come to an end.

 

Soon, Momus, the miserable mocked the gods again.

Dragged his new soul mate by the neck

through her cars open window, vowing to

drive her to Hell for toiling outside his realm.

Heroic, she summoned the men in blue

to file her grievance.

But the fugitive fire in Momus raged on,

compelling The Fates to impose their leaden doom,

fusing his gifts, and his skull, to a final calling.

 

 

 

© Cornelia Connie DeDona 3-21-18

 

 


 

 

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