Joanna Brown
Calypso

So lonely I’ve been on this island in the sea,
talking to myself and the orange-eyed violets.
Spread-beaked ravens, black skimmers roam,
and at night, I look up at my sisters-- the Pleiades.

Odysseus stopped here for seven sparkling years;
then Zeus tore him away--
and I was left alone again;
I have no place but here.

         *         *         *

I have twined my braids into a splendid coil
checked my image in the water’s mirror
but it is replaced by my father, face tight with strain
millennial dust, tracked with tears

Then across the sea, in supple
golden sandals, a stranger comes
She hugs her bronze-tipped spear to her side
asks to rest for the night

I detained her hero—
I’m afraid she will be angry with me
but she smiles, puts her finger to my lips
takes my hand

We walk to my cave
firefly lanterns, tapestries:
waterfall framed by cypresses, clustered grapes,
the rocky foam-flecked shore
the sweet drip, drip from ceiling spires

I offer her my favorite nectar
she drinks thirstily
feeds me forkfuls of ambrosia
When I slide back her cloak

grey eyes flicker.
Her fingernails graze my neck, she unbraids me
I have never been so hungry
My lips burn, I follow them