Another poem prompted by the web a-woven around Elise M.'s pendant...

Knitting About Oracles

Even the soles of soothsayers need protecting:
the floors of the temples are littered with scraps
of bones and splinters of glass -- the usual droppings
as well as stray coins from prophetic kerfuffles
and the slime of sacrificial residues
(gods are not good at cleaning their plates).

So once in a while, instead of selecting
synonyms for doom and smearing blood on maps,
the virgins and the magi try on new stockings
and slide on vestal slippers trimmed with tiny ruffles.
They do not ask about who stitched the shoes --
they who do not spin may still be Fates.

~ pld