Poet's biog

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The goddess Hera commiserates with Mrs Tiger Woods

What do you do when your husband’s a god

and he can’t keep his glory wrapped up?

Do you sit down and cry? do you turn a blind eye

to the demiurge urges to tup?

What do you do when your husband’s a god

and he keeps sneaking out on the prowl? -

prowling hither and yon disguised as a swan

and as various species of fowl?

What do you do when your husband’s a god

with all the cute girls in his hand?

When, changed to a bull, he is pulling the wool

over every man’s eye in the land?

What do you do when your husband’s a god

who cavorts in Niagaras of gold?

It’s no manner of use with immortals like Zeus

to attempt to reclaim them, I’m told.

So here’s what I do (as my husband’s a god,

and he can’t keep his glory in check):

I’ve got an agenda of suitable men t’

invite on a bender; the young and the slender

who’d like to befriend a deity; tender,

not scared of her splendour; who’d like to attend her –

perhaps to defend her (respecting her gender)...

...but basically wanting to neck.

.

Lynn Roberts