2010 ©

MUELLER C. MARY by

MUELLER MARY

APPLE GOLDEN THE

Project Poems Origami

BY

The Greek Myths Greek The Graves, obert R

the three might be intended. be might three the

mine. already is what for

tion: ‘To the fairest!’ not knowing which of of which knowing not fairest!’ the ‘To tion:

scheme must I Now

up, and stood embarrassed by its inscrip- its by embarrassed stood and up,

find. to impossible was I

golden apple at their feet. Peleus picked it it picked Peleus feet. their at apple golden

entwined arms my with perhaps

cably together, arm in arm, she rolled a a rolled she arm, in arm together, cably

– hand my on alight to

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Athene, and Aphrodite were chatting ami- chatting were Aphrodite and Athene,

flight take dove a like

THE GOLDEN APPLE GOLDEN THE

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guests at loggerheads, and while Hera, Hera, while and loggerheads, at guests

not did apple that odd How

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leus) was determined to put the divine divine the put to determined was leus)

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invited (to the marriage of Themis and Pe- and Themis of marriage the (to invited

But the goddess Eris, who had not been been not had who Eris, goddess the But

Apple the on Reflects Aphrodite

Please recycle to a friend. a to recycle Please

Hera Scorns the Apple Athena Considers the Apple

Golden apple? Cherished Honor, are you They have such devious ways, I own a tree with golden apples inscribed in this orb? Does its Must I of cast pure those mortals on which he preys safe in the Hesperides metal carry fair weight? as my helmet and shield, in perverse abnegation of me. a wedding gift from Mother Earth Can Justice demand choice sprung from my father’s head, These goddesses though are worthy to Zeus’s Queen. She knew. between such goddesses – uphold my place in the face of chaos, combatants. See my arms on theirs’? Each day I scan, dispatch Desire embodied, and the Lady employ my strategies against hunters to find his lovers, in name so cruelly treated, noble sisters whose smiles kill their bastard babies, Protectress of sweet Seasons? I now enjoy? Some purpose, yet those wretched twins then, must beset the battle to come. with quivers, arrows shot with perfect aim, still they sit at my table. Blind rage becomes me, a fire to cast rivals in stone or burn them to shadowy ash.