Tonight's Poet Corner: And Hephaestus Held Me
And Hephaestus Held Me by Belinda Roddie You kept your hand buried in my hip. "I am the Other," you whispered into my ear, and the tinnitus started up like an alarm going off in my brain. I could taste your immortality on my tongue. Wine and smoke. Your legs folded in a crucifix against the skeleton of your wheelchair. Below the awning, we caught the glow of a police car's blue and red eyes as it sped right past us. Your grip grew tighter, and suddenly the heat of iron was in my mouth. You smelted my senses, extracted precious ore from each flaring nostril. You pulled a rotten tooth out of my head and crushed it under your wheels after it had tumbled to the ashen pavement below. "You are the Other," you whispered to me again. You and I, we and no one else. Your enunciation glued to my synapses. The breath of a blacksmith burned my already puckered skin. You took me from my father's shop then, made me carry you up the fire escape