Circe
by Janice M. Scudder
Look just past the horizon. Do you see that dwelling? Yes, just there. That’s Circe’s farm. She practices animal husbandry. Every day at dusk Circe leaves her work to foretell us tomorrow. Stand where you are. Don’t run away. Let her approach you. Listen. She has something to tell you. Her smile is so serene, so gentle. She melds her mouth with yours. Accept her invitation. She opens her carmine lips to your kiss, those lips that cast shadows in the snow. Slip down her throat where her prophecies are formed. Is that honey you taste? Or the slow burn of oleander?
Janice Scudder is a poet and novelist who lives in Colorado.