artwork: sharon auberle
Hot
Flash
by
Sylvia Cavanaugh
To
forge weapons
with
fire
is
a sign that we are civilized
but
the taste of knowledge
had
its price
dealt
in a currency
of
fertility
in
calendar clicks of counted days
a
real blood bargain
paid
periodically
paid
in labor pains and
in
pre-menstrual syndromes
but
now I wield
my
own damned fire
to
cauterize the wound
the
first sin settled up
my
womb
now
sweated caustic clean
Adam’s
bones are mine
and
he is scorched
turning
on these embers
he
re-arranges and adjusts
looks
at me
across
his stiff
cold
shoulder
and
winks
