Visiting day: part 19, Demeter’s Apocalypse

Persephone reclined on
a throne of vines
lush with
chlorophyll
sap
life

The Boy sat at her feet,
singing her praises.
Perfect Persephone,
savior of Hell,
mother of lost 
souls.

The adoration rushed
through her veins.
Sweeter than any ambrosia,
warmer than any wine,
softer than any herb.
She floated into 
an exquisite dream…
 
…that shattered on impact 
with her mother’s voice.

You lazy girl, what are you doing?
Mortal Earth needs Life.
And that means Spring.

Persephone’s eyes flew open. 
Demeter stood before her,
golden and glorious,
imperial and imperious.

Why don’t you do it, Mother?
I’m happy here.

A scowl passed across Demeter’s face
like a squall, scouring
everything but dull
maternal concern.

I brought some bloodfruits
from home. Eat something,
you look skinny.

Persephone shrugged 
and held out her hands
for her mother’s offering.
She ate
one
two
three
bloodfruits…

…and something violent and ageless plucked her out of Hell
and dropped her, weeping, on a mound of Mortal bones.

Mother, what have you done?