I felt a little like Persephone this morning, as I walked and let my fingers run through the tall grass on the field by my mother’s house.
Like Persephone before she was Queen of Hades,
when she was only goddess and lover of flowers.
I found a patch of white dandelions.
Little moons brimming with wishes yet to be made.
So I plucked a few, started wishing
Let Sinatra play at my best friend’s wedding. Let her have country walks in springtime for the rest of her life
Let my father have some peace of mind and a rainy summer so that his cherry trees can grow tall and green
Let me go to Cuba and drown in all that blue
Perhaps Persephone would have told me to be more careful
walking around those fields of flowers, making wishes.
Before you know it, she would have said, the ground is cracked open and you’re pulled down. The summer wilts to winter in the world above you—
you are starved and start to forget about light and water
and even those precious moons.
The ground is cracked open and you’re pulled down.
Be careful, she would have said, because before you know it,
you’re convinced it’s love.