as surely as winter
loosens it's icy grip
with one last kiss
upon my throat,
i know spring
will soon return
to gently hold me
in her warm embrace
as the earth
calls me back home.

Our love was crafted from heavenly bodies.
Tow trucks, skyscrapers, and chicken farms separated us.
But destiny, fate, and god came together
And gave these three damsels a gift.
Wrapped in blonde bows,
And dry throaty laughs.
We are one of the greatest platonic affairs.

All of us were given to Hades from our mothers;
Their tears fell on the maps they gave us.

As the gods weep, we laugh
At how we found each other in the mess that surrounds us.
All has aligned.
Nothing is perfect.
But nothing truly beautiful
Was born from perfection.
We are our sweaty foreheads,
Large appetites,
Thirst for a knowing,
And a hunger for a longing.
We are a connection
Conceived from something holy and numinous.

she’s in the dirt now
but you can’t compare her to a dead body
she’s a goddess
the goddess of spring.

i asked why she was dug up
and the woman nearest to me says,
“i kept watering her, hoping she’d come back to life.”

you can’t compare her to a flower
she belongs to the underworld
she’s a goddess of that, too.

but more than anything
she’s like salt.
the land is barren ever since she died.
there's been a ripple in the earth

last week everything within a six mile radius
all the trees and plants
the weeds and fungus
all the birds and the creatures nesting
have withered and yellowed
run or flown away
or rotted

this week it’s a seven mile radius
so the men get their shovels
and bury her again
and we continue to do everything we can
but it all feels a little too late

with crossed arms i look to the skies
and wonder who we should call on
now that persephone has died

i want to unravel you
pick apart your bones
devour you so hungrily,
you'll stain my sheets
and leave me aching.

I adore the crispness of an apple,
Thin, breakable skin
Encasing **** flesh,
Hiding danger in small doses.
Its dewy, red skin,
Could ****** anyone -
From Eve to Snow-White.
A bite and you're done for.
It's a dangerous fruit
To get from a stranger.
A witch in disguise,
An old lady,
Or God.

But you?
You didn't offer me apples.
You offered a single pomegranate,
Hard to crack open,
But hides dozens of nectar-filled seeds.
A single one won't do the trick,
So why not have some?
Just a little.

You?
You opened it,
Wide and inviting,
And watched me get
Addicted to the unsuspected,
To the soft and juicy insides.

You?
You watched me count the seeds,
Almost obsessing over
The delicateness of each one.
Blessing you,
Praising you,
Before biting into one seed,
Or two,
Or a dozen,
Or ten thousand.

And I?
I followed the pomegranate's many, many seeds
Feeding and feasting
Right from your hands.
Finding pleasure in the poison,
Innocently falling captive,
Taking the bait,
As you march me straight to hell.

It was too late when I realized,
Apples are for witches,
Pomegranates are for worse.

Woe be to the lady of seasons!
Persephone and Demeter argue.
As neither can forgive dear family,
we are lost! We are sunk! Polar icecaps
melt to the tension of their bickering.

Poseidon’s domain increases ever more!
His power does drive our beaches and shores
higher! Higher! Higher ever more!

Eve ate the untouchable apple
And was made to leave Eden
With Adam, beside her, and his child

Persephone ate the pomegranate
And was made to stay in Styx
With Hades as her husband

To stay or to leave,
I want a man to eat fruit with,
As lovers, loyal and sublime