Annie Lure

Annie Lure

Annie Lure is a poetry salon proprietor and durational performance artist of Mediterranean extraction. She operates worldwide.



The paternal grandmother lathers
cortisone on the flaking child, may you
become robust, my heart
; palmful
after palmful, she scorns the doctor’s
frugality (didn’t he say only a smidgen a day?),
weaving unbeknownst to her
Nessus’ chiton. The boy’s feverish skin
is now his funeral pyre. Bad blood
murders the air between the doctor
and the boy’s mother:
‘You killed your own child’ snaps like manacles around the mother’s hands.
‘Half of me had to tend my own dying mother!’
is broken up like a genotype.

The young mother gravid with guilt
wombs the blighted boy
in her palms as if to rebirth him.

The maternal grandmother is charged posthumously,
interpellated as Heracles’ anima:
her haste into death consigned the boy
to a careworn, benighted Deianeira.

The pathway to the mourning house is strewn
with cobblestones like blasted brains.
The visiting cousin vacates the boy’s father’s
lap of the serving tray as if vacuuming a miserly uterus.

The coffee cup is clogged like a coronary
with the paternal grandmother’s grief.
Between cup and saucer we graft
paper blessings to freshen her humor.

Greek myth of Nessus’ tunic: Imbued with venom,
Nessus’ tunic inflicts unbearable pain on its wearer.

Unable to bear the pain, Heracles, Nessus’ tunic’s
hapless recipient, prepares a funeral pyre.

Watching the centaur Nessus carry his wife, Deianeira,
across the river and force himself upon her, Heracles
shoots an arrow tinged with poison at him.

Greek mythology/Jungian psychology: the feminine aspect
of a man’s personality

Deianeira, foolishly believing the fatally wounded Nessus’
telling her that his blood would ensure Heracles’ fidelity,
takes his stained tunic to Heracles.

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Poetry in this post: © Annie Lure
Published with the permission of Annie Lure