P. Sufenas Virius Lupus
He has seen the souls of stars come and go,
enriching the very substance of the universe.
The bright band of the Milky Way his path
where photons uncountable are herded, channeled
in the Celestial Nile, into Osiris’ company —
the white strip trailed by him, his linen
wrapping the embalmed corpse of the cosmos
in preparation for its transfiguration.
The luminosity of forgotten gods and heroes
gathered by him into the white-hot point
where there is no star, but instead a hole
through the fabric of existence’s intricate weave
letting the millionth part of a billionth
of the clarified radiance of that world through,
traveling light years numbering to times
when there was no water in the earthly Nile.
But it is not his star, rather that of Sothis.
The Greeks say it is Orion’s hound Sirius;
the Romans the bitch Maira of Erigone,
the true and loyal servants of Bacchus.
And though it is her power and her name upon it,
the greatest part of its brilliance lies
in the blur of motion caused by Anubis
as he gathers the souls of men, gods and grass.