‘Hypochondria, Least Powerful of the Greek Gods, pts ii & iv’
— Joyce Chong
Hypochondria once had lunch duty with Hades and he told her, “That’s some thorough grief you have.” She was pleased.
Today I have for you a poem in a brand new literary journal that’s just recently debuted with a bang, called Cotton Xenomorph. Emily Paige Wilson's poem is an exploration into a character as part myth and god, part portrait and human. There are too many wonderfully crafted images to really select only a few, but I’ve tried. Here, we envision worry into being, the way Greek mythology makes enigmas of things that were only notions before. Here we build a body around an idea and watch it breathe itself to life.
She’s pulled out two teeth because she felt a filling split, pain spilling into her nerves like brides into soft gowns. Hypochondria must be so gentle now when she bites down and only smiles as wide as her pride will permit.
A mixed blend of myth-making and abstract creation, the figure of Hypochondria becomes dually human and symbolic. The way our own fears devise ever-shifting ways to enact themselves, she is as much the fear itself as its victim. This uncertainty in the division of character reflects the tendency of mythology to blur the lines between the real and the embellished. How these stories come to be, how sometimes through the cracks of the illusion you can see spots of the truth, of ourselves.
Hypochondria can only watch scary movies if she knows the ending first—who lives, who dies, how long it takes the monster to forgive himself.