12:2: “Artemis Speaks to Aphrodite”, by Alicia Cole

12:2: “Artemis Speaks to Aphrodite”, by Alicia Cole
for Sonya Taaffe

Leaf-light on the walls: here we wait, sister.
The aspen casts her shade like curling ochre,
your mouth a tender pearl.  You say,

I waited at the sea, unceasingly earnest;
the rocks piled up at my feet lashed with
sea nettle, weeds.  The tea I brewed was bitter.

I stretch bark and leaf-bright, shake the
blight, still sleepy, to the packed earth.  Say,
Here is your bower if you’ll have it: tented

with morning green, lush and verdant.
Forgive the yellow that creeps in with
fall’s hedging.  My gift: an acorn soaked

past poison.  Through the winter, hold the
seed on your tongue; the sea, a roaring charger
bridled and set to ride, waits for a planting

when the ice first breaks
open
in place of light.


Alicia Cole, a writer and educator, lives in Lawrenceville, GA, with a photographer, their cat, and two schools of fish. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Asimov’s, Strange Horizons, Goblin Fruit, Dark Mountain, and Futurdaze: An Anthology of YA Science Fiction. Her musings on writing and life can be found at three-magpies.livejournal.com. She says:

Sonya posted something about the sea on her journal.  I was inspired and started to wonder about Goddesses speaking to each other at the shores of the sea.  Not any particular sea, more of an archetypal sea – the place where frozen faith breaks open, becoming belief.  This poem is the result.  


Illustration by MiguelHermoso (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons



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