Poetry Postcard 9

I have to admit, I am struggling with this poem. It has already gone out to a friend and fellow writer. She is working on a fantasy set in Ancient Egypt. (Sound familiar, readers?)

I am struggling so much that I have revised the poem multiple times since sending it.

Postcard 9 features this image.
Here it decorates a perfume bottle, 1890.
www.museudelperfum.net

There were other directions I could have gone with this label -- on my card, it's a soap wrapper. But when I looked up the brand name, "Isiris," I learned this was another name for Osiris, that grand Egyptian god. There had to be a poem in the juxtaposition between over the top Victorian decoration and the God of Death.

The god Osiris often appears with green skin.

Isiris and Osiris are both Ancient Greek mispronunciations of the god's proper Egyptian name. I also found out that the trademark conical crown Osiris wears  is called the Atef. All of this information made its way into the poem, and then, as I revised, out of the poem.

My major problem is, I'm not sure this poem stands alone. Without the illustration, it's nothing.

But I have to let that go. As I told my husband, I had goals with this poetry project, and one of them was to stop listening to my inner perfectionist -- that critic many of us have stomping around in our heads.

By writing 44 poems in quick succession, I wanted to rap this mantra on the knuckles of my soul: I SHALL NOT EXPECT EVERY POEM I WRITE TO BE PERFECT.

To which my husband said, "Then you wouldn't be you." (Did I detect a note of sarcasm?)

Victorian Soap Label

The brand is Isiris,

another name for Egypt’s

god of death, his

pharaoh’s crown traded

for a head of golden curls
and cherub’s wing,

frothy as the filigree

decorating this label.
In its rosy center, the god

kicks up his baby heels,

he knows I will

unwrap his soap, inhale

its perfume and

lather my mortal skin

while he waits, discarded,

among tonics and

moisture-preserving lotions.

by Laura Shovan

Postcard information: “©2003 B B K Paris, From Soap Labels: 40 Collectible Postcards, published by Chronicle Books.”

You can find the book on the Chronicle website.

I still like the idea of Osiris masquerading as a frolicking putto, wrapped around fragrant soap. I like the idea that we use cosmetics to make believe we are delaying our date with aging and death.

What do you think? Does the poem work without the illustration?