Issue 52: Winter 2021

Upon losing my gold star & being confronted by Diana, I, Callisto, tell my story

nymphae sensisse feruntur * —Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book II, l. 452)

nymphae sensisse feruntur *
—Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book II, l. 452)

 

blazing in my marrow
laid down the quiver to
greet the god in long fa-
miliar grasses wet
before his carbon-grey
likeness where later’d hate
the trees that know my damp
secrets & later’d be
hated by you o god
-dess who once cooed over
my mother-of-pearl shine
[guarded by the fluttering
arms of yr thick forests]
prized not quite w/ need [say
the poets] but more some-
thing like yr throat stuffed up
w/ lilies banish me
my brow downcast & my
silence deep & reddening
[all the nymphs can feel it]
hemmed in by heavenly
wrath & this my spoiled body

 

●    “It is said that the nymphs could feel it.” (My translation.)

About the author

Annick MacAskill (she/her) is the author of three poetry collections, the most recent of which, Shadow Blight (Gaspereau Press, 2022), won the Governor General's Literary Award for English-Language Poetry. Her poems have appeared in journals across Canada and abroad, and in the Best Canadian Poetry anthology series. She lives in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, Nova Scotia), on the traditional and unceded territory of the Mi'kmaq.