Spurning advice never to trade with hawkers,
out of her mind with fear, witness Pandora:
Give me your salve for horror, nourish
my laughter; banish bitter remorse, mix me
balm for sorrow; out of my tears distil
elixirs; lave away sin with mercy, pure
and healing, life-giving as sleep. Deflect
this bane my fate, pluck off the nettles
hurt and hate. Work me a miracle, I will pay…
Voice of the hooded stranger, grave:
The cost of what you ask is great;
The price is innocence, my daughter.
Pandora and the Hawker
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103020900334
Свидетельство о публикации №103020900334
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