I leave my husband, daughter, homeland, and slip away in the dark shroud of night.
The orange-red glow of the moon is veiled with clouds, Artemis’ hand already at play in this.
My own hand wraps around Paris’ fingers, my heartbeat is the phantom of Menelaus’ footsteps behind me. The ship waits at Gythium, water lapping its sides, gentle like my fingers stroking Hermione’s face.

wind whispers
a crow caws
Apollo’s triumph

We board the ship, my feet numb like ice. My skin smells of the salt-spray of the sea, the night air,
the heavy-wine scent of the watching gods – I know they are there, have known since Paris sent that knife-gaze into my heart. His hand cups my face, the thief coveting his prize. We raise anchor, and sail with the dawn.

the sharp horizon
a knife across the sun
blood in the water

—Caroline Hron Weigle

This gorgeous poem was written by the lovely Caroline Hron Weigle. Remember her name – she is an up and coming historical romance writer.

I painted the piece above a few years ago. I’d never given much thought to her name before – now she has one.

I hope you’re all doing well.

annmarie:)