By: Samiya Rasheed

prometheus — light crammed between his jaws
licking up the insides of his teeth
scratching enamels in their
his climb — ran triumphant
meek made resplendent tossing
the ember from his mouth and
great golden blooms sprouted into the loam
        now man’s — where the gods decreed
        cried you will worship us and
        you will be cold at our feet —
        deeply and truly held
        in those calloused mud clay palms
prometheus shackled now
bloody and torn upon the broken word
but unforgotten
a willing martyr for —
        the hearth and the heat and the cooking fire
        and the healing touch and the red reflection and
        the salvation and the flame
                and the warmth
        the warmth is worth it
        the warmth lingers