The Gods Put on Midsummer and it Goes as You’d Expect
By Isabella Perez
This morning, Zeus scratched a name off the cast list. The role is Oberon;
He defends his expropriation with a thunderous recitation:
Act Two Scene One Line One Hundred Sixty-One.
It’s hard to say no to a man who believes no means harder.
Dionysus and Hermes both want to be Puck;
I write their arguments in my rehearsal report as general “twink” drama.
Hera and Aphrodite both want to be Titania, until Aphrodite is
swayed by the thought of playing a nubile ingénue.
Ares leans back against the proscenium during fight call. Next to his head,
a poorly patched dent reminds us, to remind him, to pay attention this time.
Artemis squirms during intimacy call. Don’t touch me, she states, anywhere.?
I detest whoever cast her as Helena.
At focus, Helios asks for hot on me. He will later be bombarded by Iris
collecting scraps of gels, for some art piece he will never understand.
Hephaestus and Hestia, under the raving of chop saws, talk silently.
Their words are nothing where wood glue can suffice.