Pegasus

Foaled, fully grown, from my mother’s neck,
her severed head, the silenced snakes. Call this

freedom. My first cry, a beating of wings,
abandon. Call me orphan before I
even know what a mother is. I think

myself a rising, feather and hoof, neigh
and caw, and you, always, on my back.

You bear a sword and shield, remind me
of her labor, her stoning gaze. What beast

will your blade free next? What call will you loose
from another woman’s throat?