Seasonal Languor Revision April 2017
My husband offered me pomegranate seeds from the supermarket shelf; I contemplate when Hades tempted you. Now four months of each year you dwell inside the depths with him
while I endure, this suffocating darkness, exhaustion, craving carbs and sugared tea. I ache for sunshine’s vitamin D – and your return with flaming torch.
Demeter’s sorrow is shared, but I detest her fruitless spread, so slump beneath my quilt with no desire to surface and get dressed; warmth coddles all my frigid bones.
I scrutinize the sky for scythe-like wings returning from overheated realms, yearn for apodidae, screaming parties careening madly round rooftops.
As crocus’ wake beneath catkin arms, you glimmer through the shadows, enfold me in promises, scythes slash through cirrus - and I spring into your radiance.
------------------------------------------ Seasonal Languor
My husband picked me pomegranate seeds from the supermarket shelf; I contemplate when Hades tempted you. Now a third of each year you inhabit the depths with him
while I endure, this suffocating darkness, exhaustion, craving carbs and sugared tea. I ache for sunshine’s vitamin D – and your return with flaming torch.
Demeter’s sorrow is shared, but I detest her fruitless spread, so slump beneath my quilt with no desire to surface and get dressed; warmth coddles my frigid bones.
I scrutinise the sky for scythe-like wings returning from overheated realms, yearn for swift’s screaming parties careening madly round the rooftops.
As crocus’ wake beneath catkin arms, your glimmer through the shadows, enfolds me in promises, scythes slash through cirrus - and I spring into your radiance.
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