Lovelier than you would imagine.
Rimed with soil, the smell
of citrus,
moss, stairs that descend into
the depths of the earth. Great
dark river,
half fog and half water, tossing its
ancient head. Water scent,
taste of cold.
Slip of silver on your tongue, lunar dust,
moon fruits glowing on black
and twisted
trees. The queen of hell in the distance.
Crown of obsidian and gloss,
hair
bleached silver from the shadows.
Long and terrible memory.
Persephone
holds the world above in her teeth
like an orange peel.
She grasps
your hand, tips three pomegranate
pips into your palm.
Reminds you
that it’s your choice to linger
or go on. Watches you
swallow
the last red seeds—burst of saccharine,
wine burn of memory on your restless
tongue.
Kisses your forehead. Clutches you
in her unrelenting arms.
