Home       About/Subscribe      Blog      Previous Issues      Submission Guidelines       Sponsors


Fickle Muses an online journal of myth and legend

art by Phyllis Bertoni Krosinsky
by Phyllis Bertoni Krosinsky

(Click image for larger view)

Two poems by Cassandra Labairon

Hera Spies on Zeus From the Corner Booth at the Diner

He says to the slight dear, you know darling,
if things were different I wouldn’t leave.

His leaving is the tide. Him I have loved even
though different won’t happen. His ways

murder the madness of love. Still. I watch him
with women who laugh, over eggs and French toast,

at his wit. Ha. I have been that woman, almost.
They know nothing of heart and understand only

half of his words. Test them. I dare you. Instead
he passes the salt and hopes that one will. Still

the other side. He likes the way a moon pulls.
Torn. That is the curse he bears. Want

and not wanting. Belief and Disbelief. Waitress
brings the bill and a full glow. He vanishes

out the back door. I walk to the table where
the slight dear sits thinking he may return

one day. To save her from bacon and cold coffee.
And his cup is empty. And his plate is clean.

 

Bodhisattva

He wants one. And so. She arrives in her gold
Buick Century beckoning him to satori. Gone

will be the pretence of buses, city streets, culture
that offers respite from nirvana. Her cure: cut

the bullshit. A tree is a tree, urban or suburban,
leaves green (going golden) need the burden

of a man ready for relief. Imagine the woman
at the post office knows your name and gives

you letters lost for years. Imagine the only sound
you hear, cicadas and wind; yes there is traffic off

of the highway, cadences new because distance
offers perspective. The Bodhisattva asks, don’t you

want to live, break loose of loss and longing? She
comes, real, unforgiving. There is only one promise

land. Kneel to beauty. Bold need. Can you be bold?  
And one more thing. I come disguised. So don’t expect

ease. Don’t expect to fake it because you’re afraid.
Hells welcome the man who doesn’t heed his call.

She can fall for the unenlightened mortal but that fall,
fleeting. Her recovery reminds all men of opportunity

lost. Hello. I have a car that will take
you away, but you have to drive.