Medea

I wrote this poem looking 
at Eugène Delacroix’s painting 
of Medea (see below), and then 
I saw women who had left their 
homes to join ISIS taking their 
children with them, and Medea 
became uncannily modern… 


 
 Medea
  
 look!
 how tender the touch
 how in full light
 i hold my children tight
 naked
 my breasts engorged with milk
  
 the cave was our refuge
 on this sunny day
 the wind blowing softly
  
 they were taking a bath
 look!
 those chubby legs 
 bare-bottomed
 little creatures
 naked innocence
  
       —i heard nothing
  
 look!
 how tender
  
 i hold my children 
 tight
  
       —the sword is gold
  
 furious and fierce
 i held them in my flight