Higgins Writes the Poetry of the Gods

“Caduceus? Oh, that’s the snake thing,” says my older daughter. This is not the answer I am seeking just at the moment, as I’m looking for my copy of Sorina Higgins’s poetry book—the one with the blue sky and Hermes, set against a white cover. My fourteen-year-old goes on, interrupted at intervals by my twelve-year-old. Caduceus is the staff. It’s held by Hermes. He’s the messenger to the go...