Alone in the dark, seated on a stone-cold floor, reaching for an ancient, hidden scroll, I cut my hand on a stalactite, sharp as a steak knife. I lick my blood, salty as the sea, and taste my mother, grandmother, and me.

Swallow.

Bow.

A broken chunk of cave wall waits in my lap. I pick up the rough, sooty lump. Turn it over. Inside is dusted with diamonds chattering in light. They glitter and speak: Keep digging, they tell me. Excavating treasure is your calling. There’s more bounty than you think.

You are the cave. You are the amethyst skull. You are the sapphire throat. You are the emerald heart. You are the citrine solar plexus. You are the amber belly.

And my child is the sparkling ruby in my womb.

Bio: Bella Mahaya Carter