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.