Persephone Says
by Alison Stone
Mother,
Do not blame the pomegranate.
I belong to this world
no matter what I ate.
I took its substance as my own.
Mother, I would have smothered in
your garden, crowned with your lilies,
pollen staining my skin. Then
an old crow wrote with beating wings:
The one way out is down.
There is in every living thing
a dark place where the truth is known.
I'm alone here. Ashes fill my mouth,
I'm cold, my husband's hands are bone.
in every room, snakes' gold eyes shine
and there is only death
but Mother, death is mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment