aphrodite gifted me her beauty
but i call upon her to let known,
the smoke that fills my lungs
and the fire that lies in your wake

ares gifted me her ruthlessness
but i call upon her to let known,
the war you started within me
and how untamed i became

athena gifted me her wisdom
but i call upon her to let known,
the thoughts i still have of you
and how skilled you are at being persistent

eleos gifted me her compassion
but i call upon her to let known,
how i still feel pity for myself
and how i wish to mercy you for your misdeeds

these women do not live within me to make me
a weaker version of myself
they live within me
to make me strong
in your absence

Can I compare thee to a flame of fire
when time has stolen the words from my lips.
Cliche upon cliche grows to inspire,
the death of a rose at the thought of your kiss.
The crash of a wave as you enter a room,
Time stops as I await your gaze.
Drench me in your water, succumbed to Neptune
What purity remains, I allow to raze.
Choked by the smoke, leaves me breathless,
I gasp for air, desiring nothing but relief.
Thoughts intoxicating my mind - shan't confess,
for the love of an innocence crying for peace.
Try as I might, Eros' three sharp knocks.
It is the key to the furnace that you hold to unlock.

Came at five the fates for tea
I set five cups, five plates, five chairs
I asked why and they didn't answer
I asked why and they just laughed
They leave at six, they will come tomorrow
I wash four cups, four plates, oh dear
They will come tomorrow but no for tea
They will say goodbye to me

Flavia swore as the heavy earthenware pitcher slipped from her hands and crashed onto the uneven flagstones. As she knelt in the puddle of tepid water and started gathering in the pieces, she heard the rapidly approaching footfall of an armed legionary.

‘Leave that now, there’s no time. We ride for York immediately.’
‘But mea domina...’
‘The Wall is breached. Hurry, puella, or she'll start without you!’

Flavia picked up her sodden skirts and ran.

                                                           ­  §

I held my breath as the last piece of the Corbridge ewer slid smoothly into place and wondered at the exquisitely crafted motif which encircled the body of this ancient vessel. A procession? A cavalcade? Curious, if not for the men-at-arms, I would have thought it a pageant. And there in a covered wagon a noble woman looking back at a young girl standing on the steps of a villa holding her hem in her hands.