A Trojan priestess, captured by Agamemnon and carried to Argos as his slave and mistress, she was Apollo’s lover. He gave her the gift of true prophecy, but when she refused to bear him a child, he punished her by making all around her disbelieve the truth of her predictions.

no worse curse!
there’s not,
I thought;

know the truth
of the future


be believed?

she bargained with Apollo
for sex
then refused him

that never goes well,
denying a god.
maybe this will teach her

many of us carry –
a similar curse

not the knowledge of the future
(no one could bear that)
rather, the curse of not believing the truth

I say carry – giving it the burden of weight
but more like an empty bucket
waiting to be filled

wanting the weight
of the necessary.

love me
need me
want me

appreciate me
say I’m good enough
Please, just say I’m good enough.


my curse?
cassandra in reverse.

turns out, no need to plead.
the truth is there.

pouring into my bucket
gallons by the second
firehose to the face

The need of the necessary is not the curse
we need what we need, after all.
Maslow gets it.

the curse

is the bucket
that won’t

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