Pegasus

By VALERIE DUFF
Iron mallet, shield of glass. Our
genesis a crucible of gas
and condensation shot straight through the aorta
that took on color, luster, gorgon dreds
when one of us reversed and sampled godhead.
To be a wilderness, unstable viable
Medusa spawned right there, shut down
to rock and filled the holding chamber.
Pulled particles developed mass, insisted on
a stallion’s eye from iodine and salt, and spat
out cracks, and lonely, spat out code.
It arced from her decapitated neck.
Her hair knot slipped, a heart began to beat.
His hard wings shook like candles.

 

[Purchase Issue 12 here.]

Valerie Duff is the author of To the New World (Salmon Poetry). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Common, Solstice, Ploughshares, and AGNI, among others. She is poetry editor of Salamander Magazine, and she’s the 2015 Poetry Fellow at the Writers’ Room of Boston.

Megan DoPegasus

Related Posts

image of street with buildings and fence

Immigrant Ditty

VLADIMIR GANDELSMAN
"Immigrant Ditty"
The sun goes down. The supermarket / floods with dead light. Now the gate / caws at you in the near darkness. / A not-so-magic key might blaze. / Can’t steal happiness, now, can you? / Win Lotto America! This, / as they call it, is a beeldeeng,

Poetry Feature Image

May 2019 Poetry Feature

R. ZAMORA LINMARK
Pattern your anxiety after Djuana Barnes. / Or any wrecked Parisian woman of adventurous arts and letters. / Lift the ban on reality: / He’s a man first; an ass second. / Calma on the tranquilizers, chica, / You’re not in a stable. / After a cup of café con cognac

Shadow on grass

Poetry by Iraqi Women in Translation

NADIA AL-KATIB
"Definitions"
My heart is a pear
your pocket can’t contain—
my heart is poorly
stored. It starts to rot.
My story? I’m a girl
tempted into
a wonderland.