I’m an Amazon built from the bones of my own broken body
sometimes I can’t speak but for screaming
a gaping wound for a mouth that calls for war
thorns knot in my gut until iron-stained salt coats my lips
a reddened smile that used to beg but now only bites
the talons of my fingers slide down my hips until battle lines are drawn
the gentle caress of a threat, the splitting open of peach skin
until the pulpy guts spill over in sugar-soaked juice
my palms torn open in a sticky stigmata
lashes fan open like the razor blades I used to crave
circling eyes the color of mottled bruises long since faded
pupils blown open, two black holes hoping to swallow down
the armies of my enemies – the hands of someone I loved
the wine circles in my mouth like vultures over fallen soldiers
as I watch you from across the room
I’d recognize those hands from anywhere; I have the matching scars
tonight, it’s my fists that uncurl into ready claws
Hippolyta’s daughter standing at the edge of a killing field
my blood-hungry grin spreads wide
Ren Martinez 