Odysseus does not come to bed. He spends his nights looking at jars; gestures of a hand job from a topless siren. The image poorly drawn, her fingers resemble weapons. He will sleep when we rise. I’ve learned to treasure
Circe Wakes as Herself after Being Penelope
There is never enough time to teach the art of return. Home is the lie that never stops telling stories. Once upon a time there were three sisters. Sirens who tried to love everything they were not. They failed and
Animated Excerpts from Circe
Nicelle Davis lives in Southern California with her son J.J. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Broadsided, Front Range, FuseLit, Mosaic, ML Press, The New York Quarterly, Offending Adam, SLAB Magazine, SLAB, Two Review, and others. She’d like