Apolo en la Fragua de Vulcano
I could not forge her heart. Apollo
attested to it, index finger raised, heat
blazing the words through my body--
my brother, sheathed in Vulcan armour,
pressed against my wife’s naked body,
like a pearl spooned against its half-shell.
Apollo, radiant as an ember, brought irony
to the term. To forge— to hammer out
hardness, shape her as my own. For years,
I thought love was the coal found burning
on the shoreline. It rose from ashes,
inextinguishable and strong as iron.
Melissa Tyndall's poems and award-winning articles have appeared in Number One, Prism international, Red Mud Review, Words + Images, Sixfold, Gamut, and various newspapers. She is also the former adviser of the award-winning student literary magazine, Squatter’s Rites. Melissa is currently an assistant professor of English in Nashville, Tennessee, where she lives with her partner, Matt, their daughter, and two cats.
The Ekphrastic Review
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