r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Stella Brice

I
PERSEPHONE
QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD
SPEAK FROM BELOW

 


Of his awful
rooster pushing under
my skin & the

Dead seeping into the
royal marriage chamber.

I palpate my king's head that is
hard as a spike

But it is my own.

All this agony trapped in stone
I claim
part mine

In a way that the rank
emerald of my mother's world
would never be . . . .

Her place
is rich.

& My taste
is thinned.

I am used to gray flowers.

Up there is
too much teeming

Too much sap.

 

 

Contributors
Table of Contents
Main Page

 

 

 

r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g 

 

All rights reserved. All poems, fiction, articles, essays, and artwork are the property of the authors and artists within, and as such, are protected by applicable U.S. and international copyright law. Copying or reprinting in any form is prohibited without the expressed permission of the author or artist.