my arms and legs like logs of wood, fingers and toes kindling
my skin crackles, my flesh screams, my hair sizzles
yet my mouth remains closed.
like them, i built this prison, this hell, this eternal confinement
the pipes at the ready to broadcast my screams
unlike the men of days past, i knew.
i knew that it was for me.
despite hours, weeks, months in the chamber, my skin remains uncharred
my hair still burns, my clothes remain unsinged
but on the inside i roast, burned alive slowly,
we are the woman trapped in bronze, a new perillos
phalaris, she tells me of my reward.
i have no choice but to get in the bull.