Circe's Island

                                                                                                           You are the reason for Circe in the old tales.                                                                                                            I watch what once were men now wander through                                                                                                             your glade, brushed by the grass, blind to your magic.                                                                                                            I say your name and the wind stops to blow,                                                                                                            and starts to burn. I sprinkle something                                                                                                            mother gave me, from a jar,                                                                                                            and watch it fire in the dusk light:                                                                                                            She gave it to ward off half-daughters                                                                                                            of men. It keeps me balanced between                                                                                                            the angels and your minion beasts, who                                                                                                             wander, wandered from now to                                                                                                            then.  Yet I do not want to be                                                                                                            human anymore. I want to succumb,                                                                                                            so I wait for the jar to empty.                                                                                                             I should have stayed with the ancient                                                                                                             ones on the ships, sitting and looking                                                                                                             and chanting into the separation, the island                                                                                                             going dim, listening to the unseen waves                                                                                                            gasping eerily upon your                                                                                                             shore.