CIRCE

“That is easy. You make a plan in which they do not.”

made a low noise and rubbed at a hairy

I lifted my hand in blessing and gave my son to the world.

Odysseus’ favorite task was the sort that only had to be performed once:

But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.

He smelled like green leaves and running sap.

I felt each breath in his thin chest, how improbable it was,

The Fates lured and tricked. They set obstacles to drive you into their toils.

I was thinking again of the relentlessness of mortal lives. Even as we spoke, the moments were passing. The sweet baby was vanished. His son was aging, growing, sharpening into a man.