When I looked upon Persephone Lying next to the Styx, My heart crumbled into pomegranate seeds. I dug them out, Smuggled them past the spaces Of my ribcage, And handed them over. She swallowed them whole. They took root in the pit of her stomach And a branch grew out of her stained mouth, A fat pomegranate at the end of it. She plucked it before I could, Pressed her fingernails into the skin And squeezed. The juices ran red like the Nile down her wrists And I felt the twist of a knife In the center of my chest. She smiled. Spring blooming from her throat. She had left Before I could wrap my fingers around her sunshine. In her place She left only three Pomegranate seeds.