March 2026

I

Nine months after the night of my only infidelity

(if we can call it that, and no doubt you will)

I birthed two children, each one encased in a smooth egg

I could hardly look at these two stones

two still-born abominations

Exhausted, I pushed them further under my blankets

turned away and slept for many hours

My dreams were vivid

His long white neck weaving itself around mine

his gleaming and pristine feathers

the nibble of his beak at my earlobe

Oh husband, how could I reject him, when I was made mute?

The moment he spread his wings and returned to the sky

I returned to you, found comfort in the familiar bulk of your torso

the earth smell of your skin, the sleepy taste of your lips

As the light faded that late Spring evening

I found both eggs warm beneath my fingers

I pulled them back towards my belly

wrapped my tired body around them and

felt myself softly gladden to the small movements

beneath their glossy shells

I did not wait long

A tapping became a cracking

a cracking became a breaking

a tiny fist crashing through its casing

a hatching became an infant

his eyes opening to reveal

the same startling silver blue as yours, husband

My finger traced a circle on his tiny heaving chest

within it I drew the sign of Mercury

I named him Castor, for his swiftness and strength

The second egg opened with ceremony

its two halves moved apart by a divine force

The child inside unfurled his limbs effortlessly

His olive skin was covered in a soft down

yet he shone with a golden brilliance

My hand hovered above him, but realised

this child needed none of my earthly sorcery

I named him Poly Lux - many lights

The entire cosmos was reflected in his eyes

II

Castor’s cheeks are flushed with fever

I leave him to his mummering sleep

and come to the kitchen, thermometer in hand

where his twin sits, bored without him

I make mushroom soup with red wine and thyme

serve it in deep blue bowls

A dipped spoon looks like a crescent moon

in a dark and stormy sky

Look, Pollux! I will put stars into your soup

I snap this brittle vial

and drop liquid mercury into your bowl

See it shimmer and dance

Of course, you are delighted. It’s alive!

Of course, you eat it, glass shards and all

And what is it, child, to be alive?

This temporal life that holds

everyone you know, even your twin

is conjoined with illness, injury and decay

But of course, not for you

In radiant good health

you remain

III

My husband

I did not lie

they are yours as much

as they are mine

the furrow in between

your eyebrows

deepens

I did not lie

they belong to no one

but themselves

IV

I have a silver bowl

for scrying

within it, the world bends

the constellations roll

and bright stars skim

far across lands and time

I did not teach my sons this art

Not that they mind having a sorcerer

for a mother, rather they believe

they have little need of either magic or mother

And there is some truth in this for Pollux

he needs nothing but Castor

but Castor—his eyes are a different colour

I did not want them to be soldiers

Now I find my visions

clouded by longing

I do not want to be shown

ragged broken skies

dust on grey skin

rubble, the bones of buildings

weapons in my children’s hands

What I want seems so small

In the thin light this morning

my bowl reflects only

a warped mockery

of my own lined face

Fingers tight on the silver rim

I hiss this to darkness within:

Pollux must not return alone

V

The sombre strangers in dark uniform

arrive unannounced, their hats in their hands

I try to not let them

but their words

invade my kitchen, tear

the floor from under my feet

Grief bends the walls

as I crawl under my covers

the hours meld with days

My hands search the crumpled bed

as if reaching

for a still warm egg

VI

The Swan-God arrives

gliding over my distress

his head raised

his long throat exposed in mock offering

I wish him all the ills of the world

I wish for the teeth of a dog

But neither hexer’s tongue

nor hound’s tooth could harm him

Closer he comes

until his feathers fill my mouth

his wings swaddle me

his voice resounds in my ears

Castor and Pollux will not be separated

I will send you a guide in the darkest nights of winter

You will know him by his starry belt

Follow his right foot to his left shoulder

And onward to where you will find your sons

Like a fool, I think he has intervened

and resurrected Castor

Fool, fool! Ready, I am

to search this Earth

believing I have a second chance

to fill my arms with them

a second chance

to love them better

VII

The night skies were overcast for weeks

the waxing-waning moon never

more than an oily smudge

in a rare thinning of cloud

I wait

by the end of darkest January

on a clear hoarfrost night

I locate my astral compass

align my body to his directions

but I do not move

I find my feet unwilling

engaged with the Earth

as if the soles could chart

a different course

in the frozen ground

I close my eyes

I do not know how long

I am still

but a knowing

fills the bones of my feet

and although the night is bitter

it glows warm and certain

it moves

into sinew

into blood

it spreads

and blooms