By: Claudia Ricci

 

Blood Ink

 

 

 

I dip the candle in ink.
I dip the ink in fire.
I fire a long thin feather.
I watch the flame.
It flickers. It flies. It webs. It wicks.
It says spider.
It says spider.
It says spin her
story exactly,
the one buried inside her.
The one that has been
knotted up
for so many slow slow centuries.
Don’t just stand there
staring into
the webbing into the net.

Grab that candle
the one with the flame
melting the wax in your hand.
Let the candle begin dripping HERstory
red wax
bubbling up on the white page.

Let the writing of HERstory
catch fire in 1000 candle flames,
Let the fire show the way,
let the ink flow, it too
the color of her blood.
Write it
Write it
right
right
here
HEAR HER SCREAM!

For she is no longer patient
or willing
to lie or hide or remain silent.
HERstory
billows in the flame
glows in
the light that fills the room.
that fills the sky.
that shines like the full moon
over a newly discovered continent.

 

Bio: Claudia Ricci, Ph.D.

 

 

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