By Julia Soule (image: Amelia Colliver)

In 1100 BCE, a prophetess wrote 30 verses on how to be content

Cuneiform self-help under divine command

What do I need to remember so deeply,

That I would press it into clay, wedging reminders 

syllable by syllable by stone stylus

callouses forming a sandstone ridge along my knuckle–

What could writing tell me that the callous would not?

Instruction from an anemone:

Your skin is the barrier between me and you

Rubbed down raw and red, sensitive and stinging,

Built up stiff and shingled, or

With careful work, just a film in between

The point where we embrace.

Let me hold you in the current,

let the vitriol inoculate you,

love language of the lagoon.

Instruction of anonymity:

We do not know the name of the prophetess from 1100 BCE; 

only the name of her god.

Epiphanic epitaphs–

What is that transcendent thing in the catch of your ribs,

begging to be worshiped by your peeling hands?