SMOKE
Persephone was smoke
Persephone was dream
she was the nakedness promised
never delivered
she was
Platonic form
Eleusian mystery
and so
my mythos will
stand bare
without her
bereft of proper knowledge:
how to sow
how to reap
harvest all
we need
(the sheaves stacked so neatly
as if in them some
divine order)
in a brazier they are burning fragrant wood
I do smell this as I claw my
way upwards
as creatures do
when sent below, to be
starved
of the light
I imagine there is a music of the Earth
as there is of
the other elements
if I tell myself I hear it
perhaps that will be enough.