Volcanic ash brings forth life: 
fertile for green grass, 
but I am the obsidian shard 
wedged in the slope, sharp 
glass cooled too fast. 
Heat rushes from me like undulating fog 
storming into the ground beneath my high heel. 
I poke holes in the growth and laugh. 
 
See the reflection of what you used to be 
in my black mirror. 
 
In one breath, a beautiful crystal. 
Only use: to be pretty. 
In another breath, an arrowhead 
tied to my lover's shaft. 
 
My goddess aims us 
to fly across oceans 
your children cannot swim.