Fasting and sacrifices.
All day one must crouch
like Demeter at her grief-vigil
by the well of Callichoros,
not eating.
The snake in the stomach
wakes up, sliding,
embracing. One watches it.
One remembers
a bowl of fruit, or
oat cakes. The snake climbs
the branches of the body,
growing larger, teeth
and jaws almost visible.
One holds the pig
in the arms, like so.
Little thing, grown
so fast! Slides the blade
along the ridge
of the neck, pig squeal
spreads into the presence
of the goddess,
flowered with blood,
I am flowered
with blood, seeds of blood
open on the ground:
Persephone's four pomegranate
seeds, four months in the arms
of Hades, moon after
moon, another child lost,
crying out of my body, crying
for her sister,
tears dark as poppies.
Evening, I am sitting
all the way down, hips on the
dumb slab of the ground.
We are all of us
sitting, pure as urns.