I call to me a name.
I think I am Pandora.
I think I am Pandora, fool and free,
fated to be slandered for destroying an ideal.
I think I was quite justified in refusing to be cowed by monster stories and
by opening that box to find out for myself.
Wherefore accuse me of a stain,
imagine that the curiosity of a brat shaped my pouting mouth
imagine that my fingers tapped with boredom
imagine me thoughtlessly arrogant, lewd,
Temptress as well as Tempted?
I just made
on behalf of all of
us flawed ones
of all of us.
If I am all your sins, yet I am purely you.
If I am also Eve,
then I will lick the apple juice from my chin...
smile at you, ask
let hope in?
~poem for Linnea, EveningStar