Persephone sits under a leafless

tree, sprouting infantile green.

her back against the trunk, her

knees square against her *******.

her dress adjusts like an eye, to fading

hues seen after change.

she's surgically bisected a pomegranate--

with the intimate caress of her right

pointer finger.

counting the gory plumps of its seeds.

her legs start to rattle as if in ******--

she crushes the pomegranate between

the palms of her hands.

having tallied those freshly admitted below.