I curse Venus when I see it but it is Mercury that makes me dream. Mercury the guide, Mercury of divination and poetry and trickery. He stills my tongue all this month.
I refuse to look at the sky and so when I wake at two a.m. I can feel him in the room with me. The planet becomes a god becomes a human whom I have loved, whose shoulders and voice and forehead I have loved. I wonder how every other soul in the world has done this and if it is worth writing an epic poem about.
However there were no sea journeys, there were no monsters but ourselves. Women turning men into beasts and men leaving women on islands. Taking something with them when they leave. The women giving themselves to the gods and dooming the love of others.
Sarina Bosco is a chronic New Englander and reluctant homeowner. When not writing, she can most likely be found washing dishes or gardening.