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         Houses fly past
         but the daimon pulls
         alongside me
         as if we're both
         standing still
     I lose
             my feet.
I try to look away,
but I'm drawn
     by the snake-wrapped wand
              that swings,
             in the daimon's grasp.
     And that helmet!
     And those wings!
And also,
     and also,
         and also,
             those glowing yellow-bright
Impossible to bow low to the ground,
     while I'm running.
Impossible to slow my churning legs,
     while a daimon matches my pace.
     I incline my head
     between one step and another.
Here is no mere ancestor.
Here is no mere household idol.
Here is no wild spirit of nature.
     This daimon,
     this god,
     this prince of Olympus
inclines his head back at me.
With an elegant motion,
with the slightest possible nod,
Hermes acknowledges that I exist.


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