To The Goddesses
Your reign was thought to last,
like the first layers
of the sun. The dinosaur hid
its shame of extinction in the dirt;
you stand defiant in open Paleolithic caves
as testament of what
was done to you. Your soft
limestone, bone, ivory and metal bodies
with its traces of red ochre fading–your labrys’ blade dull.
Landscape by landscape, the earth changing. Its people fled
the defining terror of a single deity that would not relent.
There was weeping and the gnashing of teeth.
The earth’s trembles shattered the ancient stones that
shaped you. Chipped pieces of clay
babies fell from your extended bellies; chunks of breasts
that nourished a pagan nation–missing;
its nipples, like pebbles, lay
where altars of horned animal ashes had been. There
God stands in the mist of your ruin,
a smoking gun in His hand.
The color of envy on His face.