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Ioanna Warwick
Circe
--goddess or girl, we did not know
~Homer
I wear purple like a mystical sunset.
That's when the men arrive.
I was a failure in life.
Now with my herd of handsome swine,
everyone thinks me successful.But it's too easy, loosening my hair,
letting the late light
play its game of glints
as I greet them, posing in a marble
alignment of shoulder and thigh.Too practiced, serving them spiced wine,
singing my beautiful sad song.
Too familiar, that tremor
when they feel the tug
away from the need to be human.The sun with its heart of fire
sets the sea on fire, then is gone.
In vain the waves spread their white veil
to make shine the black-pebbled shore.
I knew a boy before I becamequeen of this doomed island.
I put my head in his lap
like a tired child - and he
held his breath
and closed his eyes.No one has really
touched me since.
Copyright (c) Ioanna Warwick 2004. All rights reserved.
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