Prometheus

I crave human connection —

like any mammal seeks warmth.

The fire-bringer, Prometheus:

friend or fool?

He lit our way

out of the darkness,

and we thanked him

with shrapnel,

gunpowder,

and blown-open skies.

We huddled close

in war-lit trenches,

called it evolution.

A warmth,

nonetheless.

We crave touch —

be it from barbed nipple

or terry cloth mother.

Prometheus,

you fool.

You made us gods

and forgot

we bleed.