I approach a day of raking
like I have arrived at a crime scene,
finding evidence that Persephone’s
white arms were dragged by;
her nails digging into the earth
as she clawed against being pulled
into the early darkness, the shorter days –
she scratched October’s face until he bled
the colors of a parade, and left a cryptic
message in the curled leaves on my lawn.
From the center of the world
she paints this picture of the fires
all around her; a portrait that breaks
in the wind and that I collect into piles.
Looking at the bursting colors
still clinging to the branches is
just a reminder that she’s been taken.
A sick ransom note from her captor,
like a naked picture of her outline
at the beach while
her curves eat half the sun.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved
This is fantastic. Aside from being a beautiful sequence of images and a well structured and lean narrative, it creates 2 easy to realize characters that I kept thinking about well after I finished; both Persephone and you (as the observer.) It makes me think that I’d prefer reading the poetic equivalent of a complete mystery novel to a more traditional form, and this is a taste of what that could be like.
Thank you humbly for such insightful feedback. It’s useful to know when something works, and why.
sappy
I’m sorry this one didn’t get your approval. I will continue to work hard to earn the love and respect of my readers. Don’t stop reading because of one bad attempt, and thank you for stopping by.