Jezebel

by Kelly Hartzler

"When Jezebel heard about it, she painted her eyes, arranged

her hair and looked out the window. . .

'Throw her down!' Jehu said. So they threw her down, and

some of her blood spattered the wall, and the horses as they

trampled her underfoot."

- II Kings 9:30, 33

When she was young,

in the secret of every morning

my mother reached deep

into the bottom of her mother's drawer.

She rescued the chipped samples of lipstick.

She spilled perfume onto her neck,

onto her wrists. She soaked, soaked.

Then my mother opened the window.

Leaning out, my mother screamed "Jezebel" at the sky,

half-laughing, half-crying at the the joy

of it being so high.

Today I also celebrate.

I also rouge my cheeks and decorate my eyes

with charcoal, and I walk to the window

and look up. The sun heats my face

until my body glows,

until I jump

and fly out into the air

like a pebble being skipped:

smooth and round.

My feet echo when they hit the ground;

just like Jezebel,

the sound singing out in rings

wider and wider still.