by Angie Powers | Nov 10, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Circe holds a press conference Her skirt flourished as she sat down, maroon lipstick close the microphone, smiling a conspiracy. “All men are swine,” she said, her tone a low train approaching a tunnel. Every time she repeated the phrase, her face grew brighter; her...
by Angie Powers | Nov 9, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Kore Sometimes I can distract him with a game of dice, chances are he’ll win no matter what, he is the king of the dead after all – and he cheats well. But he loves a good game and I can slip away to see her, if only for a moment, from a distance. You see me too, but...
by Angie Powers | Nov 8, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Medusa’s day off I forget sometimes and scratch my scalp, come away with bite marks on the finger tips, at the bare bone of the knuckles — those little bastards are vicious these days, biting the hand that doesn’t feed it; the new diet is killing me and my...
by Angie Powers | Nov 7, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Podarge The wind was once my husband and I bore him sons, horses that carried Achilles to Troy. I may look like this now: rusting, yellow-toothed, the smell of yesterday’s supper on my breath, a reputation for teasing the blind, deafening those who dared to ensnare me...
by Angie Powers | Nov 6, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Cassandra If she is gold then I am silver, if she is water drunk to quench an abiding thirst, then I am air expelled after a heated quarrel; if she launches ten-thousand ships then I spurn the sun-god and buy his wrath; no one believes anything I say, yet I see all;...
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