Venus in Cazimi

by Robert Gross

        If a planet is right at the core of the Sun,
        within 0° 17′ then it is utterly consumed

Smitten, she retires
            into the sovereign forge
            the molten coronet

oozed between Scylla and Charybdis
            between love’s labors lost
            and love worn dumb
                        under the smooth workings
                                    of the whorled thumb
                        of the executioner

Each cloven heart
            a burning bush
            a blind spot
                        a retinal detachment
from a passion hearsed and rehearsed
         
                        Dido in flaming
                                    Carthaginian array
                        through the quick and the dead
                                    of the pyre