It may not have been the ideal relationship, Persephone
, having started with him kidnapping her to his subterranean mancave. What kind of Valentine's Day is this? Sari Krosinsky peels the pomegranate, tries the orange, and wonders who this man really is.
Sari Krosinsky received an M.A. in creative writing from the UNM. Her poems have appeared in the American Poetry Journal, Arsenic Lobster, Pebble Lake Review, Poetica, Verse Daily and others. She edits Fickle Muses, an online journal of mythic poetry and fiction.blushing in form
I want to make you blush
again, watch my words
in your cheeks.
I’ve seen your underworld,
a brick basement in black tapestry,
low lights, a fireplace
that smokes. But I
am no Persephone. I came
uninvited and I won’t wait
for you to offer up your seed.
And who are you, Hades, saying always
half what you mean. A pomegranate,
you say, so I can try to crack
the hard shell hiding the blushing seeds.
It’s only hospitality, you say.
Or call it an orange. You arch your hand,
roll and crush against the cutting block—
the only right way to peel an orange.
But when I try, your skin holds firm.
So I’ll speak pomegranates
until they tickle your skin,
burst red between my tongue
and your cheek.
--Sari KrosinskyPoetry submissions are welcome. Email firstname.lastname@example.org. The whole Sunday Poem series is available from the front page of the DCF by clicking on The DitchRider in the left-hand sidebar. Poems early in the series are archived under "previous post" at the bottom of The DitchRider blog.