When I picture you, I see a little
Girl, black-haired, chewing her lip.
Serious, working to create
A password to open up the world--
To recognize you for the princess
You are fated to be--or maybe
An alternative route, perhaps men
Changed to swine, a sorceress.
I called you Circe, many years ago,
"Dear Boy, you found yourself
Amusing. I am old as Greece itself.
You fancied yourself seductive
It was I who took off your clothes.
In your mirror, look, a snout?"