"[A] French photo of the temple’s interior showed not only a spring-like pool but fissures... in the bedrock, suggesting a specific pathway by which intoxicating gases could have risen into the oracle’s sanctum...Broad, pp. 146-7
NIGHTMARE:
lit up by gases that catch
around the outside curl of the cave
running so the wind won’t pick up
and break
the pythia (no python, but priest)
assumes her duties, charges
herself up in ceremony
as her arms turn unearthly
brown
as goats and laurel branches press
themselves into focus
the animal is made to shiver
from the hooves (a good
sign)
is then cut and its organs
examined its liver tender
and new as the room fills with
the moisture of old farms
and salt
its body has turned desert with
large dunes that droop
towards the inside
where answers might be frozen
but born
still-born the pythia says
the bedrock of leaving
is far (across seas) with no wine
and no one to tear you back
here
your house will be green and orange
you’ll say yes when a woman
calls and when your son
is new he’ll say no in a bitter
voice
you’ll no longer use windows
to tell life from death
but white machines that hold
men still and whirr over their
heads
she folds her hands (and blood of goat
and hot perfume are muted
only rain over the blank volcano
that mutters with a cluttered
sound)
