by Janet Hanna
The jewelled grotto sparkles
Where clear, icy waters spray
The deep green ferns and
Thick, spongy mosses.
Overhead a shaft of warm sunlight
Falls willingly on sweet, purple grapes
That hang in clusters
from their strong vines.
by Janet Hanna
I sang the eternal song of desire
And made him rich with my gift.
I sweetened his days with crumbcakes and wine.
At night, I made him forget
His barren, rock-strewn Ithaca.
Who breaks the Jungian code of silence is punished.
My head is shaved,
My man torn from me,
My mantle, which you willed me, shredded and cursed.
I pay for your maleness, Zeus, with my womb.
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