PHOENIX WOMAN

By Kelda Crich

Kelda Crich is a new-born entity. She’s been lurking in her host’s mind for some time, but now, she wants her own credits. Find her in the intestines of London, laughing at the status quo, or on her blog, (It’s about time she got one of her own): http://keldacrichblog.blogspot.com/.

Rising phoenix, garmented in

plumed rust-red feathers,

groomed with persistent

nano-mites.  

Gene-modded eyes stretched endlessly

into infinity’s seeing vision.

Iron talons flexed,

a promise of rendition.

Warrior-women-bird.

See dust-eyed, endless men

chant and dance

to bone flutes’ tunes.

The priest masked in yellow silk

on a gold throne,

spanning altar stone.

Phoenix arch over

dust-dry plains,

sucked dry by thirty, thirsty gods.

Shapes of chaos, crawling slowly,

digesting our colony bones.

Metallic-bird-woman,

seek the wind-walkers,

seek crowded chaos,

the ocean’s spawning flesh,

rise over jungles’ colossal shapes,

ancient teeth,

fed by fluttering mouths

grown in marrow-wood stars.

Seek the space of things.

Fly, phoenix,

born in our end of days.

Hosanna hunting song

that will not be stilled.

Over endless factories,

Where our recurring flesh

quivers in Fibonacci sequence,

Mandelbrot tentacles around our necks.

Rise, phoenix.

With down-blind-cast eyes, we watch you.