Gladiatrix by Morgan O'Donnell

I. Buried beneath the streets of modern-day London Almost two thousand long and lonely years She has risen to stalk the imaginations Of scholars, men and women alike II. Nearly a decade after the Roman outpost Was ravaged by a Celtic queen The specter of a woman warrior Walked against the wind and into the coliseum The crowd strained forward Nails digging into the hard stone As the bare-breasted fighters danced Courting the cult of Anubis with a trained grace That simultaneously titillated and terrified Bringing half-born erections to lifeless conclusions As previously burning blood ran cold Half-remembered myths of Amazons Rose from murky mists of the mind As blood and sweat anointed The two priestesses of Isis III. Today in the twenty-first century The official policy prohibits women From participating in combat on the front lines The American people will not risk death and rape For their daughters and sisters and wives They say IV. At night his dreams are haunted By a woman warrior striding up Out of the mists of time In the dark she strains against fear Fingertips at the edge of the sword

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