The Museum by Traci Brimhall and Brynn Satio
After the great destruction, looters came with their loose eyes
and desire for oil and marble.
They wanted beauty in her old disguises, like statues of
ancient cities before
they were taken by marauders. The fractured hands before you
belong to the conquered gods.
The tapestry in the hall tells an old legend, the tale of the woman
warrior with her twisted dagger,
and the many arrows in her quiver that warmed themselves in
the bodies of her enemies.
Here lies her spear and shards of the hunted. When you roam
the dark corridors bring her weapons
made from molten and steel, for once men stole their brides
mistaking possession for love.
Hide your body in her armor. Hide your heart in an empty grave.
When you leave here, take nothing.
(Source: diodepoetry.com)
