Persephone in the Underworld By Catherine Carter

Nobody says it isn't terrible, it is

terrible, being split open and feeling darkness

pour into you, it is what you think

it is, violation, none worse. But don't

you remember who he is? He's not

someone you can avoid. You can't

stay indoors, or lock him up. I married

death, and after it was all over and only

beginning, in the dark I started

to see: it's what he's like.

And he loves me, in his way: in the way

that he loves everyone, that he loves

you. Down here, you can see

yourself: part of a harem drawn together

from every living breath, from every last

desire. Even as he clenches his fingers

in my hair he's beckoning other

lovers to him; his kiss touches everywhere

at once. You think that I picked some

shining fool's narcissus, from which you

can refrain. But he's a patient lover;

he'll prolong it, wait for you

a while; he'll court you, murmur

your name through the dark hedges

at night, give you time to feel

the shiver of his hand. I know

you won't believe, up there in the bright

hours, but you're dreaming of him

too; you're promised to him too,

and all at once, tonight's the wedding night.

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