So Much MinervaAnna Maria Hong
Then, the Strand They strew’d with all the goods he had, bestow’d By the renown’d Phæacians, since he show’d So much Minerua. —Chapman’s Homer: The Odyssey XIII. 179 Landed, as if jettisoned to this moist crotch of habitat. Hurled, I’m sure, by some enabling fiction. The bald pate bristled and the thing fell apart. They gave me a bowl and a knife to stir humanity’s discontent. A dun dish to decant your desire. In this life, said Daddy, you won’t feel so pretty. Then left me to assume some form or swan. As if I needed pyres by the river and the slashed throat of swine. Ululating youths leaving pies on my breast. Do you see how I learnt to feel next to nothing?
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