Galatea
It was his chisel that carved bone, his careful fingers molded flesh, although not meant as flesh then, only refuge. Tell me: what does it mean to be more than wanted so hands unfold from ivory creases and lips peel in the cold like snake-skin? I never asked for this brain, these joints between finger-bones spread open; I could've kept the whole damn body for myself. But when a man finds warmth or touch and terms it love... To Aphrodite: sister, goddess, servant of man and his desire. I must give thanks for your kindness, its excess, abundance dripping like candle-wax from the temple’s altar. I never prayed. What, and to whom, have you given? Each year a sacrifice and another bull goes up in smoke. Steffannie Alter Steffannie Alter lives in Houston, Texas where she is a Master of Arts in Teaching candidate at Rice University. She is the former poetry editor of R2: The Rice Review, and her work has previously been published in Sou'wester.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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May 2022
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