Hera, they worshipped you.
Built marble temples in your name,
bowed before you, mother-
goddess, birther, life giver.

From you, the mystery of creation
brought into light, emergence of plump
fresh humans from your silky tunnel,
rose on your sweet warm milk.

You watched them as they slept.
Standing guard with your staff,
a bird on each shoulder. Your gown
cascaded, shuddering
in twilight’s zephyr.

Until they discovered
The secret of their own existence
The man you let in. His seed,
the catalyst, and Zeus, disguised
as a hungry cuckoo, deceived you.

They could have worshipped you
even more, the allower of life,
nurturer, caregiver
open door.

But instead, they made you
jealous wife- shrew of their myths
justification of insults, cruel
anger. You obliged them turning
bitter spitting vinegar
in their love juice.