| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3649 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Amiytis and the Gardener Laurie Byro taste the word “concubine” on my lips, spit it out, roll the word “purgatory,” sink into pillows on the floor. My throat is dry with dust. It settles on my eyelashes, my tongue, makes me homesick for mountains and rain. He says he will build me a garden, fill it with monkeys, butterflies and trees. When I left my home for him, I pulled the tail feathers off a peacock. This bad luck has followed me all the way to Babylon. My servants fill a bowl with plums the color of a peacock’s beak. Forgive me, Artemis, I miss the shrieks of animals, the lull of peepers on trees. I haven’t slept since he sent for me, haven’t slept for what he wants, night after endless night. Lilith, return me to the first road of this journey. I have been robbed of my home, sent to live in a foreign country. This dust rubs itself together like a pair of hands. When my women rub jasmine oil on my stomach, my thighs to prepare me for the longest nights on earth, I pray to all Goddesses to release me of this bondage to a man. |
