September 19, 2006

Conversations with Stella & Persephone

She spoke of winter
that made summers
seem cold.
She spoke of
tasting red pomegranate,
swallowing its sweet seeds,
while every other
seed in the earth
withered & died.
She cited Boccaccio's
tale about hell and
the devil inside it.
Her pulse fluttered
and throbbed,
like a bird who
had been captured by force.

She spoke of night
that obliterated day
even in daylight.
She spoke of
tasting blood,
while an obscene
glow entered
her eyes
& her hands
clasped convulsively
over her belly.
Roses bloomed
on each cheek
as though
she'd been slapped.

I listened to them,
then groaned,
and sank my teeth
into your shoulder.

Summer 2003.

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