J.D. McClatchy’s “Mercury Dressing” had pride of place on my workspace while I was writing Under the Poppy, parts one and two: melancholy, erotic, evocative, it’s a beautiful poem that I hope to quote, in part, as an epigraph to the book.

What I didn’t know then but do now is that Mercury is the father of many mad and gorgeous progeny: Pan, Eros, Hermaphroditus, Priapus (are we sensing a theme, here?) and Tyche, or Fortuna.  He is polytropos, shape-shifter; messenger, trickster, patron of boundaries as well as of those trespassers of boundaries, travelers and thieves; friend of poets and liars, friend of dreams, god of abundance and commercial ventures, and thus immensely suited to be the patron deity of the crew Under the Poppy.

Plus, he’s hot. [Mercure rattachant ses talonnières, François Rude.]