Fall 2010, Volume 9

Poetry by Nicelle Davis

Circe’s Watches Visions of Odysseus’s Return from Her Glass Eye

Odysseus exaggerates. Understandably. It is the broken
cupboard and scurry of unwanted feet in the walls—not
mermaids—that make walking away from the sea difficult.

There was song. That much is true. But that isn’t enough
answer for Penelope when she’s in a mood for truth. She
holds their son like a knife over diced cucumbers—licks

salt from the blade, mumbling over the sharp-edge, Late
night. Yes, he replies. And the exchange ends with blue
berries added to a dinner salad. Lemon juice squeezed

from the rind—the sun weeps from her fingertips onto
his plate of fresh greens. Fish grilling. They talk about
the possibility of digging up the yard—purchasing top

soil. Making is all look just a little better than before. Still
there is the broken cupboard to fix. An exterminator to call.
Can’t risk a depreciation in house value. Not in this market.



BIO: Nicelle Davis lives in Southern California with her husband James and their son J.J. Her poems are forthcoming in Mosaic, The New York Quarterly, Two Review, and others. She’d like to acknowledge her poetry family at the University of California, Riverside and Antelope Valley Community College. She runs a free online poetry workshop at: http://nicelledavis.wordpress.com/.