Pandora, when she lifted the lid, did she know
what she would loose? Not the least: blame,
which would brand her and her sisters
with the blood and resentments of men.
Like Eve, who ripped the rib from her side
and presented it to the unmasked god.
Yahweh, of the jealous, vengeful genus
of divinities, who would sooner drown
an ant than break the thirst of a dying ox.
Still, she flowered the world with the dew
of her ichor. Cradled the children of men
against her chest, let them suckle of her
benevolent elixir. Etch her into scriptures
in only shadows and glimpses, while she
nursed the sages and babes of villages
they’d long abandoned to the dust
-strewn attics of memory. What we fail
to remember: she put the lid back.
Finished the task the gods taunted her into.
Like a cat presented with the neck of a bird.
Seth Leeper is a queer poet. A 2022 Brooklyn Poets Fellow, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Prairie Schooner, Sycamore Review, River Styx, The Journal, Salamander, EcoTheo Review, and The Account. He holds an M.A. in Special Education from Pace University and B.A. in Creative Writing and Fashion Journalism from San Francisco State University. He lives and teaches in Brooklyn, NY. He tweets @sethwleeper.