“Forge” by Jordan Hirsch

The heat of molten metal
reddens my skin, still raw
from his stubble. It burns,
what is between us, even
embers while he sleeps.

I pour magma into the mold,
wait for it to set, feel his
breath on my neck while
I wipe my brow. It always lingers,

his coming and going. Enveloped
in steam, I plunge his sword
into a pool, let it sizzle and
snap into solid place. Raising

my hammer, sparks fly
from the anvil, my sore hips
straining with every swing.
What we have between us sharpens;

it will be the death of many.
It is the only life I choose.
He is home for but one night,
and I will send him out again,

loved hard, blade ready
for what trouble comes tomorrow.

Jordan Hirsch writes speculative fiction and poetry while occupying the ancestral and current homelands of the Dakota people, Mni Sota Makoce. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, The Future Fire, and other venues, and her debut poetry chapbook Both Worlds is out with Bottlecap Press. Find her writing on jordanrhirsch.wordpress.com and her thoughts on Bluesky @jordanrhirsch.bsky.social.