Pandora, In Parts

Part Three

UR-WOMAN.

So what does it mean to be

the perfect woman?

Every woman is

her own first

eventually.

BEYOND MY CONTROL.

It really is, you know.

It’s beyond my control the lid wasn’t replaced fast enough.

Beyond my control, what the gods made me.

What man made me.

Ur-woman.

Read however you wish.

MUTE.

A seer is a listener. All oracles know this.

It’s why we stay

Hidden in mountains and volcanoes of our own choosing.

A monument to those before chains and poison.

And those, too.

FORBIDDEN FRUITS I.

Would a goddess be jealous of another.

The allegory rings true for both of us.

Both painted in red.

Both painted,

curious.

WONDER.

And if I was funny, too?

If I understand the joke,

and, instead of laugh, I

grip your arm,

stare at you,

say, “That’s so fucking funny, dude.”

Then what?

UGLY GOOD.

I will be a lesson.

A side quest.

A side guest.

You’ll forget about me.

Until you don’t.

Until chaos returns, and you’ll remember

something about a woman, and

a jar,

a box,

a coffin,

and love.

And I am(,) still.

NEUTRAL.

Because my plantonic love for you

is matronly, protector.

Birds-eye,

like crows in barrels,

cawing as I pass by.