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.
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