From the outposts of Lovemaking and Motherhood she advanced, a vessel worked into the desired form. No slenderness to the waist, her feet are gone beneath the long heavy dress of terracotta sun-baked, kiln-fired, stitched with nails. Slack chin, hawk nose, high cheekbones, eyes half-closed in an easy smile, all beneath a uniform powder mask.
A giant brooch clasps the cape to draw the eye away from spent breasts. She’ll ring if lightly struck, her iron-rich reds oxidizing blue, hands held up in supplication or defense. Visible from the crowd, giant spiral earrings match the coiled headdress, itself the mouth-piece of the whistle, her hollow body the resonant chamber. Puffs of air split by the fipple pierce the composure of the other dignitaries, who all outrank her so far. After the strictly ceremonial peace talks, she follows them back to the palace. <strong>Author Bio</strong> Marit MacArthur earned a B.A. in English and creative writing at Northwestern University, where poet Mary Kinzie changed everything. She went on to earn a Ph.D. in English from UC Davis and an MFA in poetry from the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. Her poems and translations from the Polish have appeared in<em> Southwest Review, Leveler, Front Porch, Jacket2, American Poetry Review, Watershed Review, World Literature Today, Verse, ZYZZYVA, Peregrine, the Levan Humanities Review,</em> and <em>Airplane Reading.</em>