King Midas stamped his wish Return to Sender
after finding neither food nor drink
survived his golden touch. While he grew slender
moping under scentless roses—clink
Hermodike pulled off a golden petal,
took it to the marketplace to trade
for fine imported clothing. Precious metal
thin as skin and shapely as a blade.
Astonishment surrounds King Midas’ queen!
No-one in Phrygia has ever seen
such finely crafted gold. “Oh—” she rejoins
“a thing my husband made—we call them coins.”
Midas: you know his story and his name.
Hermodike deserves an equal fame.
Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside
No comments:
Post a Comment