Pandora, In Parts
Part One
FROM FIRE.
This isn’t about your god damn liver.
You’ll have another by tomorrow, anyway.
The eagle, she comes to me at night,
in waves of light(e)ning.
She, too, is trapped — pinned to
eating the same meal day after day.
Have you no sympathy, Prometheus,
for your adversary?
You gave man fire, after all.
I was a mere reaction to the flame.
KAKON.
I asked you once if Kakon meant
anything to you.
You said no.
It was all I needed to hear.
KALON KAKON.
But then you come to recognize the sound.
Echoes in your ears.
Lights something within you.
Your gift from Prometheus.
THE ANTECEDENT.
And if what I brought was not a
jar, not a
box, not a
coffin, not an
evil.
And if what I brought was love,
unleashing it would be devastating.
KOSMO ALGOMENĒN.
The dress they gave me,
the dress they clothed me in.
Do not mistake my wonder
for innocence.
I, too, hold a mirror.
ANTI-PAROS.
Yet, your brother looks at me
with wide-eyed candor.
I am made of gods and bore easy.
Do not waste my time, Epimetheus.
AUTOCHTHONOUS.
Born of clay.
For you, this time, (but not the next).
Man does not know what he wants— so he wants.
The all gifted.
The all giving.
Until I am forgotten.
Lost.
Returned to clay reliefs.
More than the sum of my parts.