Persephone 3

My mother knows all about the under-dark.

She needn’t have pretended to be appalled.

The seed must break open and rise;

put too deep the rot sets in.

My mother is a god; she wanted to spare me.

But my nature is nature.

Like everything alive I was meant to be split open,

to blossom, to be sucked, to be eaten,

to lean, to bend, to wither,

to die and die and die and die until I died.