Claire Barbetti


Stealing fire too young
the flame remains arid, blue;
your trespass will not warm you
and the soaring eagle demands tribute, recompense,
comes daily to eat out your liver,
grips your body
chained to a rock in the sweat of thirst,
regenerating the organ without fail for the living feast,
                                                                                always looking to the sea.

No longer chained, but enflamed, almost drowning;

You've seasoned your life
from a garden in that longed-for sea;
learned that the fire residing
in the vagina dentata
needs hot peppers to chew
while dancing the meaty mambo
with you.
The eagle can't withstand
your liver's spice
and so vanquished
dives deep
and with its friendly beak
pulls your penis
which grows longer:
growing longer
in the hot shadows
in the late evening hours
in the fluids, the beat, the rain of the night,
the droughtless kiss
and its five-siren questions,
the amplitude your sweat-soaked bed:

What is water in your language?

A new bringer of fire