Hades’ Song
woman of wheat,
braider of tales,
i only imitated the
inheritance
you swore to her,
that apple cheeked
and blazing haired
child.
for she leapt into
my pit, beaming.
i strung leuce
leaves to adorn
her pale neck, split
seed from tender
flesh for the feasting,
whispered more,
that silly word,
and polished
her ivory claws
for tearing.
i will keep her,
laughing in
a palace of her
own choosing,
until the dead
call her kin.
Demeter’s
Reprise
pour drops of sun
and seed down
the abyss, soak
the shrivelled
earth with your
grief until
ghostly flowers
burst outward,
their petals a
fragment of hues
long forgotten
in the land of
the lost.
cover the chasm
walls with braided
sheafs of gold,
forming footholds
of mercy, a lattice
of life, and fast
for the feast of
plenty upon
her return,
above all,
open your
mouth
and speak words
of delight over
tartarus’ gate.
pour drops of sun
and colours–
ashen to blushed
to radiant, til her
thin fingers
reach yours,
til you lift her
weightless body
onto your back
and climb to
the land
of the living,
til you both stand,
beaming.
Danielle
Page is a truth-teller, writer, educator, and editor of the Clayjar
Review. When she’s not reading up on composition theory, she’s
scribbling in her moleskine journal or hiking a mountainous trail. Her work has
appeared or is forthcoming in the Whale Road Review, Celestite, The
Raven Review, Dream Noir Magazine, The Amethyst Review, and Ekstasis
Magazine.
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