The Showers of Perseus

This poem first appeared in New Writing Scotland 29


The constellation sees centuries of dust

cling to a comet’s tail,

returning each year to shame the stars

in their kaleidoscope trail.


Danaë heard the drip-drip of Zeus

as he poured into her virginal tomb.

Then, the steady nine-month alchemy,

and a son who could turn flesh to stone.


Now, as the debris burns and blazes,

open-mouthed heads tilt skywards

and spectators are stunned to statues,


struck dumb by a shower of meteor dust

that springs from the star-studded product of lust

who was born of a shower of gold.

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