THE WEAVE:

Persephone is still singing

to the Waters of the Well…

“Not you too,” Persephone whines,

as Vesta walks up, beside her…

“Me too,” Vesta softly smiles, 
as she touches Persephone’s cheek,
“I am in season.”

“But I am weary of doing
what the season tells me too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I’m having FOMO, Vesta.”

“You must pick your 
poison, then, Persephone.”

Persephone leans her cheek
into Vesta’s palm, as her 
tears drip over the back
of Vesta’s hand, 
“I want the story 
to change,” Persephone
sobs, in a sharp whisper.

Vesta presses her forehead
against the girl’s, 
“So, change it, 
Wanderer,” she murmurs.

A pain contracts
across Persephone’s face,
and she closes her eyes,
not breathing;  Against it, 
for a long moment;
eyes watering clear, when 
she opens them 
again, each gulping Fire
from the Sun, "I change
 by not doing, 
but why do you 
go, Vesta?”

“It has to do with 
a flower, and a dream
I once wrote.”

“Before you dive, will you
tell me, about it?”

“Come here, Kore.”
Vesta sits on the lip
of the Well, opening
her arms.  Persephone 
rest her head 
in Vesta’s 
lap.

Vesta tucks Persephone’s hair,

behind her ear, and whispers

a dream to her…

“There is a flower 
that blooms, beyond 
the foot-stones of this threshold.

It grows white, and many 
petaled, in the brush, 
before the swamp.

My brother tells me,
pollinated by moths, 
it only opens, fully,

in the Moonlight.
Soon, I will go,
like a moth, drawn

to flame, to find
what burns, within 
the night.”

Vesta lifts Persephone 
from her lap, kisses
her brow, leans back,
and with hardly a splash,
she’s gone.

Vesta sings as she falls,

underwater…

Vesta falls through Persephone’s

memories, and sees

the time, Persephone

met Minthe…

THEY HOP OUT OF THE VANS

and immediately find 
each other.  Surrounded 
by women, looking and smelling
like flowering Goddesses,
they glow grey.

Familiar with enrichment questions,
and childhood English
games, looking for the two
expressions, that do not feel
the same, they found each-other. 

And that is how
their friendship began.
It was Persephone's birthday
again, and she traveled
to a place where no One
 
knew it, unless she told them.
At the time, she didn't know 
she liked doling out tongue 
bindings, or that Minthe liked 
receiving them. 

Over years, they learned 
about one another;
What they like, and what 
they don't, and how
they aren't that different;

 craving something rooted 
in a pain, as pleasure 
finds a Way to feel,
up through the cracks
of Pluto's realm. 

They are bound
to each-other, through 
the backs of their hearts,
 where intuition 
leaves a mark.