142. The Caduceus
The Caduceus
At my declaration, Hermes turned
to Cadmus and Harmonia.
‘It is time.’ The two slowly rose,
serpent heads moving hypnotically.
Hermes had put a polished, oak staff
between them. ‘Prometheus’ last gift,’
he said softly, his eyes on the staff.
Our uncle of invention punished for his rebellion.
Without waiting for any more instructions,
Cadmus and Harmonia slithered
towards the staff and, moving
like they were dancing,
swirled their bodies around it
till they were a perfect, symmetrical
pair facing each other.
Something about it made me feel
unwell, like something awful
was about to happen,
something unchangeable,
and my stomach lurched.
Hermes’ fingers reached out
to grip the end of the staff
and at his touch,
much like Midas,
the serpents suddenly became
shockingly still, as still as
the dead as their bodies
turned into cold, metallic gold.