Scorpions In Her Hands

She leads her jaguar warriors
scorpions in her hands
a crown of beaten gold and
lapis lazuli brighter than the sky

Burning erratic pathways through paradise
she bites my red fruit heart
we all return to her bloody
each of her feet step upon a lion’s back

kings ride beneath her banners
snarling songs of slaughter
and love
dancing on before them, we were cut

so deeply,
so bright
a red spot on the dirt in front of me
I stumble

she dances in the furnace of stars
as I fall
in the spiral stringing across the abyss
glinting hard as a sword-edge

winking (I am still here)
so that lying by the roadside,
listening to the horses and the screaming
I feel my ripened heart pumping

this is an offering
the copper in my mouth and lungs
the growing wet dirt
beneath me

She is at the head of our armies
stars blazing in her hair
crowned by asps, riding lions,
scorpions in her hands.

[Selena Bulfinch is a Canadian fantasy writer and poet whose tastes run towards the mythic and dark. In addition to writing, she works as a librarian and bookkeeper. She is often found in the company of a large, angry cat.]