Poisoned Reflection: A poem by Robbie Blair
Channel: Rob Blair Young
Date: 2013-09-03

To Scylla & Charybdis from a Concerned Citizen: Part 1 ("Poisoned Reflection"). This poem is part of a series of posts on my blog: http://RobbieBlair.com/magazine-microwave/

Image credits:
*Scylla image visible starting at 1:00 - Bleminh: http://bleminh.deviantart.com/art/The-despair-of-Scylla-184324517
*Broken mirror image visible starting at 2:36 - ~Rinzombie:  http://rinzombie.deviantart.com/art/Broken-Mirror-Girl-2-188580827 
*All other images are famous paintings depicting the myth and have fallen into the public domain.

For more of my work, check out my website: http://RobbieBlair.com

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Full text: 

To Scylla and Charybdis, from a Concerned Citizen: Part One
"Poisoned Reflection"

Scylla: I knew you when you woke
to the early morning mists,
eager to brave the waves,
loving the way the salt-water slicked your skin
and glistened.
You told me it made you feel beautiful.

But somewhere in those ventures far from shore,
that guppy-legged Glaucus caught sight of you and fell in "love,"
went to the drug-dealing enchantress Circe—
that same witch who filled a full island
with men transmuted into pigs—
and he begged of her a Rohypnol* love-potion.

You wisely fled, and you couldn't have known that Circe,
would grow mad with jealousy,
would creep spider-like
with a vial of poison
to the waters you bathed in.

Scylla, what did you see in the poisoned reflection
of that pool?
As the toxic water seeped into your skin,
did you see your legs splitting open 
into so many vine-line limping threads
that it felt impossible to stand?
Did you hear hounds howling
at your waist, pulling you
apart, ravenous and frothing mouths
trying to devour from within?

Scylla, did she make you believe
you were a monster?
Did you think  you were half woman
and half beast?
Always pulled in all directions, torn into pieces
by your own uncontrollable body.

Scylla, can't you see?
All these monstrous things you saw
inside yourself were always illusions,
Circe's jealous toxins
only ever hallucinogens,
her amnesiacs flowing into your bloodstream
until you forgot who you really are.
Scylla, you have always been beautiful.

This poison is strong. I have been trying
so hard to find an antidote, and it's not
just for you anymore.
Circe's bestial feast has been spread before us,
and now it is rare to find men walking as men:
We are expected to be swine.
Circe casts her spells
from the covers of magazines,
from television screens,
from a churning sea of advertising.
She has made animals of us all.
And Circe's toxins have flowed from your pool
into the wellspring.
Now, a generation of daughters
stare into poisoned reflections,
seeing something monstrous in themselves,
convinced they are unworthy
of salt-water and sun glistening on their skin.

Scylla, I don't have an answer.
Scylla, the poison has gone deep.
I want you to hear me, but I'm
so scared that it might be too late.
Scylla: Please try to listen.
I'm begging you to believe.
You have always been—
and you will always be—
beautiful.