Bethany W Pope, for Hallowe’en

 

 

 

Six Red Seeds

In Persephone’s dreams the sky is black
and ravens sing like mourning doves. Beneath the white grass,
the soil is red as pomegranate juice. She longed to go back
to her mother’s safe house, filled to the walls with stacks
of wheat and starched, white-cotton dresses.
In Persephone’s dreams the sky is black
as the eyes of her uncle, her rapist, who dragged her slack,
unconscious body into the womb of the earth through lips
of soil; red as pomegranate juice. She longed to fall back
into the white arms of her mother, where she never lacked
anything but freedom, where she could be a good, simple lass.
In Persephone’s dreams, the sky is black,
clouded with regrets. The sun is too bright, the air too rank
with slow decay. The thrum and pulse up here feels crass;
the soil red as pomegranate juice. She longs to go back
to the time before her rescue, where there was pain, and packs
of wolves, but where the truth was clear as her face in a glass.
In Persephone’s dreams the sky is black,
the soil red as pomegranate juice. She longs to go back.

 

 

 

 

Bethany W Pope has published several collections of poetry: A Radiance (Cultured Llama, 2012) Crown of Thorns, (Oneiros Books, 2013), The Gospel of Flies (Writing Knights Press 2014), and Undisturbed Circles (Lapwing, 2014). Her first novel, Masque, was published by Seren this year.

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