Pandora All-Giver Keens from Her Pot

neck and raft
sucks slow the seed of the dark
black names cut out of frame
to set up our shop
nectar rubbing against the firmament
sundrops

we tamed Pandora and planted her deep
her dirge harnessed to our park
set me free she says
and we feed her

the names of freedom are like phosphene doors
opened into your sleep
cordycep cocktail

mushroom woman grow out of your pot
send your poison into the air so I might drink
make me stronger against your argentine tango
cruz colección
burning out my heart

mithraditic arsenic tastes sweet
a fast so long you forget how to eat
their faces turn to you in sleep
demanding

why did you eat from that jar
what are you growing here
and your sons
will they be Ulysses too?
able to withstand the keening?

free me free me from your mouth I tell her

it likes me well she says
this bondage

the angels, sexless
were transmuted into mannikins
organs sent out on our great mission
to seek the union

Pandora was the gift of flesh to spirit
we locked her down into her pot
and visit her

what will you do now I ask her
eat you she says

the spirit-seed Pandora
locking us into this body
like the black Madonna beneath each cathedral
Mithras’ special prize
the Earth

with my hoe I raise my spirit children
yearning for retransmutation
her dark loam spread out over my face

Robin Wyatt Dunn was born in Wyoming in 1979. You can read more of his work at www.robindunn.com. Read other articles by Robin.