I drift across the ocean
above a lava coral reef
this blue skied noon.
I hear a cry echo from the shore.
My sister needs me. Pele.
I feel hands around her throat.
Her ti leaf dress being torn.
Her hair ripped from the root.
I fly fast to where she lies
and find her beneath Kama-pua,
the pig himself—half hog, half man, all lust.
My sister cries, he grunts.
I address the beast,
I am the sacred night streak with dark,
darker than the deepest depths of the Pacific.
Red-spotted magic of your nightmares.
Ravisher, beware. I am the red eel woman.
Sorcerous demon of desire.
You defile my sister, defile the goddess of fire.
And so you will be damned.
Words do not stir the beast,
so I wield my keo-lele*
and cast my sweet scent pass his nose.
Hook, line, sucker.
He chases and chases
my flying yoni pass Hanauma Bay,
round Koʻolau Volcano,
and crashes so hard he creates a crater.
Pleased with my yoni,
I place it back under my hibiscus skirt
and dance Laka’s sacred hula
with my sister; the sun drying her tears.