A History in Four Parts or Persephone's Guilt

by Susan Konz

one
 
I dreamt you dark
and neon pink.
I burrowed to yr chest.
 
You were sage & kind
the way you are
only in absence,
 
but what ached after
was the memory of night
in your attic room,
 
wrapped in your fear,
my ear to your heart
where it’s okay,
 
it’s okay. Your song
rocking me away
never could stop
 
that silver fish
from slipping into
my blood stream,
 
drawn to the rot
at the tamped, safe
center point of us.

 
two
 
I am watching myself watch nothing,
waiting for history to swoop down
& fill me up with all the people I’ve been.
 
Persephone taken down, I get –
how pallid the wildflowers her hand let drop.
Big-eyed and hungry down there -
 
Persephone, voiceless, save a song lilting below
the dirt, so faint only the sun caught it.
It not meant for anyone, really.
 
It no plea, more lament –
It sifting through my dirge here
where only in my memories I am so quiet,
 
stock still and caught, bent to the day glow
sun: I’m so sorry. I miss you. I still remember
the pang of those seeds you’d feed me -
 
red and sour.

 
three
 
Because I had to eat, I had to stay.
This rule now divides my time.
If I return to you,
 
like some spelunker through all this gore,
I return to my affections. Promise me
they haven’t shriveled.
 
I’m rife with rotten second chances.
Filthy from snooze buttons at the foot
of every bed
 
Is it my fault I was born into sleep?
A heritage of dreams without antecedent,
did I choose this?
 
I’m too hungry these days to think.
What else could I have done?
You’re angry,
 
but I’m sick, fast burning out, away
from the damp palm of our
sleepy love.

 
four
 
I don’t have a good tie for this –
you sitting next to me on the old rug,
wax sealed and coffee stained,
 
the television in your mouth flashing
blue and human shapes that splash
against the false wood paneling –
 
I’ve wronged you and maybe you know.
I wanted to see the blue dome above
the dirt, got tired of being your lover
 
in hell. Even though it was so good,
your sweet voice shaking the linoleum,
sneaking through the streets at night
 
like kids. Sneakers off, skipping over dirt
and glass. Your eyes dancing, not seeing
me, the grey suburban night –
 
You, deep in your own mind, holding out
your hand for me to take. For me to never
have to be alone.
 
All I ever needed to do
was follow you
all the way down.