• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 04

A Thoroughly Modern Circe

The study room.
Chatter, grunt, snort, squeal
- Not by the hair of
my chinny chin chin -
Barely a bristle between them.
Buzz buzz buzzz

Turn, eyes down;
She sees the grease
of sausage in the making.
They tip tap on screens,
She slides into the only empty seat
And, as a shield, emptily studies
her book for assignment.

More snorts and audible muck
Slurry the air.
Buzz buzzz

The book she holds is precious,
Especially in the emoji era;
Wonders at these boys spurning it
- Words before swine.

Her own phone buzz buzzes
And innocent as a pearl she opens it:
A horrid pink thing stares up
from her screen
- They had her number?


A Thoroughly Modern Circe

She holds back a throaty gag
As their throats erupt vile swill.
- The world will know
What pigs they are -
She forwards it, naming and shaming,
to the class group
Along with a magnifying glass emoji.