It haunts us, the misappropriated flesh,
be it Pelops’ shoulder after Demeter’s feast
or Adam’s rib supporting Eve’s new breasts,

In the stories that make us
             they wait mysterious
for us to sleep, & wake them

Among the sepals crisping
where they strain apart to show
tips of blushy petals getting set

Persephone white-faced
carries her vegetal cross
on a stalk perpendicular

The mouths of her shadows are pursed by time
to suck sun-lit memories from the wood.
Freezing damp and candle-smut have raised

greener than Eden, a shock of bliss to see
just past the stew and suck of reeking waters,
the earth ate sunshine under the olive trees.