The Perfect Match
Their boughs bend low beneath her crushing hand. (Obeisance cannot sway a grieving god.) The living trees are helpless where they stand, Awake and murdered by the same command. Her scream strips...
View ArticleIn Hindsight, Demeter Thinks of What To Tell Her Daughter
Not every danger points down my daughter, some stalk the air–his words– beware his claims of your beauty so great he nearly crashed his chariot at the glimpse of you on the road; and your voice that...
View ArticleWhy ever should Demeter mourn?
For her lost daughter, Demeter wears the colours of fall, then those of winter. First, the brazen reds and golds of shock and rage, And reckless grief which burns through every turning,...
View ArticleNaiad of the Lefka Ori
Under a Minoan Café umbrella I watch the afternoon unfold around Chania’s Old Port, cahier reading put aside for the moment, a frappé before me in imitation of Magalee, wondering if I will ever really...
View ArticleIdes of March, Philadelphia
I saw my friend, wrapped in gold and pink, on the Ides of March, slumbering in a halo of silk, her honeyed skin smooth and sea-salt pure. As if youth, beauty, and devotion could escape the Hindu and...
View ArticleAlmost Spring
Down in the Underworld, Hades was held captive by creepy crawly things. With the new flat screen TV turned to the nature channel, his pals Scorpion, Centipede, and Black Widow Spider looked...
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