persephone must have silent feet, for
as she lit out of her dark room last night,
hall-chamber-hall, cold tile and all she knew
wearing the last flowers of september

to risk this rain so much like spring is bold
small girl, no small thing the underworld

but

come spring, she will divide herself in two
unlikely color, brush away bare arms
the last doubt for sun that day-
in one shiver, it is done