And now halfway between home and Hades
In the middle of the night
There is a woman wrapped in sheets and fever
Listening to the flutter of minute wings
Trapped among the glass and the shades
A word, a sensation
I can feel that moment before flight
Your name that graces my lips
As I descend into fitful sleep
I wake up dizzy and restless
But there is nothing quite as sweet as this
I did
I ate of your fruit
Dreams of insistence, sanguine
As you asked of me
And now you must follow through
I am Persephone
And I am ready to be consumed.
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