Persephone peers out without blinking. Six months marred by darkness; three years locked down. Time unkindly tick-tocks differently in all the halls of Hades. Flickers of sinister snickering, the recognition of blossoming, of leafing. The corpse, a contrast, half-seen in rings on Zoom.
On smart screens always seen binge-watching on-demand on sea and on land.
And Persephone? Her fleeting youth yearns to share food off another’s plate. To share a sip of wine– touch lips in between. But Winter is harsh. It’s complicated. Unnecessary stupidity may be muted, taken off video, she leaves, leaving an avatar to suffer in her place.
It’s torturous and tremulous, to listen, to endure unenticing voices.
You: Pssst…come out, don’t stay, let’s play. Embrace me, running free, to sway the moon together, and dance.
Come out, uncloak and unmask, no longer the chained task of Hades.
Soft spring brings relief. Winter whipped by warmer weather, your lips pressed against new limbs. Suck the soma from those buds and smash nothing.
And Hades? He’s sitting in solitude, unloved and unpitied.
Persephone proceeds with levity. She skirts the scars of drama, ecstatically donning fuzzy socks, no leather skirts, just jammies. Netflix and chill suspended ‘til next spring, making the best of hell.
Published in the Lothlorien Poetry Journal, June 15, 2022
Painting by Helen Lundeberg, Persephone and Hades
