Medea’s Legacy
Crushed violets,
midnight-blue scent,
Greek lullaby threads the night
She floats and lingers.
Spitting an artful net
My-Lady Spider weaves and spins--
Hearts
swaddled amongst the stone corners
Spinning
Spider, will you take me there?
Wrapped
in your silken love? Will you lick me
Clean;
and, stop the red upon my legs and up above?
Or,
will you bite my mewling soul and yank it
back--from love?
Wear my pestle shoe
Where
under once a clump of baby violets grew
Let
me suckle at your breast--your nightshade brew
Before
the morning dawn and cleansing dew.
Now,
Medea: stroke my eyes to sleep alone;
Drain
my heart ‘til dry--as desert bone;
Swaddle
me in your carded blisters; and,
Hang
me in the cornerstones--amongst my sisters.
Take
and wear my pestle shoe
Where
under once a clump of baby violets grew.
Now,
before the morning dawn and cleansing dew,
Suckle
me at your breast--let loose its nightshade brew
At
last, Medea, swaddled in your carded
blisters;
Stroke
my eyes --to sleep alone;
Drain
my heart ‘til dry--as Roman bone;
Drop me in the
ancient stones to sleep amongst my sisters.
.
.
.
.
[g+Mary Nicholson, Bobby Wilson, Pennie Aschbacher]