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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 03, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 03, 2018



Where do you sleep,


From the earth you rise,


Nobody speaks about it

We have forgotten that the seasons

did not used to change.


I want to remember

what it was like

before the days grew shorter.

Did you cut your hair

under the earth

in spite of your mother?


When you drank

what was forbidden,

while you starved yourself

for weeks

did you know,

the earth grew colder

mourning dear Persephone.


I can feel you,

moving deeply.

I can hear you

in the sound

of the darkness falling softly

upon my skin,

avenging sleep.?


When the torches flare,

I shudder

as you’re dragged down from the meadow

I watch your crimson fingers linger

furrowing the sky of Demeter.


And when you leave,

my body suffers,

pomegranate seeds divine.

For the caverns of the earth

become the hollows of my mind.


Alone I pace upon these ruins.

your mouth is filling with the flames

for I’m at the mercy of your weather,

while you do sleep,



Your mother believes you writhe in anguish,

but I taste you in the nectar

that sears like fire going down.

Your mother weeps

but you can’t hear her

where you sleep below the graves.


Do you know how long they toiled

to wrench you from the maws of hell?

Until the gods,

and all their fathers

forgot who in the shadows dwell.


Upon leaving, I will meet you

regardless of the season's change.

Upon leaving, I will find you

My deeper self,


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