Circe in the Age of Instagram
Nothing is anachronism
if you live forever, it says
in my bio. I started with
carefully composed shots
of the island, sun filtered
through olive grove and arbor,
close-ups of hermit crabs
hurrying their little conches
across the sand. Every
influencer knows what we
go through to make labor
look like love. Twenty takes
trying to get that thirst trap.
Gently slopping the hogs,
hair curled by afternoon
heat, gorgeous in torn coveralls
with my bright red bucket.
Post it. How else to turn
vengeance to magic and magic
to commerce? Sometimes
we’re even the beneficiaries
of serendipity, sun somehow
netted behind a new sail
arriving on shore, the shot
perfectly composed, as the next
set of sailors straggle into
foreground. I post it. A girl
must make the best of
what she possesses. I share
daily stories of how they squirm
and tumble over another,
adorable montages of snouts
snuffing the lens. I filter
the ugly out of muddy
trotters and mottled skin.
I give them stupid names like
Pigasus and Hogamemnon —
then I satisfy every order:
belly, shoulder,
bacon, and loin.
* * *
“Circe in the Age of Instagram” is included in Sonia Greenfield’s new chapbook Helen of Troy is High AF. You can acquire a copy from Small Harbor Publishing by clicking here.