Persephone

Earth opens wide

like the hungry mouths of unfed children,

cracking at the edges

and spewing the contents of its ages

beside you,

in your crooked smile, crossed legs,

and crossed heart.

 

You brace

and terrify, but gather will like leaves

to look inside.

The artery glows with the heat of

your world’s bleak and boundless core,

the place where summers sleep

when the sun turns away

and you’re left with only the warmth

of fires you can imagine.

 

Change springs forth,

thawing you out,

and suddenly blood returns

to your cold countenance,

to carry you away and home again.