Letter to persephone – by gabrielle langley

Your mother embroidered with silk thread
mille-fleurs over white organza.
Poppies and spiderwort, lupine and peppergrass.
When you left to cut wildflowers.
her tears flowed into an aria.

Demeter never wanted a man
touching you in the dark
spaces—valleys, canyons, and crevices
bleeding like rivers.
Your mother dreams
the earth swallows you whole.

Before the bargaining begins
she finds you dressed

in ashes and creosote,
breaking pomegranates,
the seeds staining your tongue.
The seeds had already stained your tongue.

Broken pomegranates,
ashes and creosote,
she finds you dressed.
The bargaining begins.

Because the earth swallowed you whole
your mother still dreams

bleeding rivers
spaces—valleys, canyons, and crevices—
hands touching you in the dark.
Remember, Demeter never wanted a man.

Her tears, an aria.
You scissored wildflowers
—poppies and spiderwort, lupine and peppergrass—
cut the mille-fleurs on white organza
your mother had sewn with silk thread.

Gabrielle Langley is the author of Fairy Tale (Sable Books, 2023) and Azaleas on Fire (Sable Books, 2019). She has won the Lorene Pouncey Poetry Award and the Vivian Nellis Memorial Award for Creative Writing. Ms. Langley was also a spearhead and co-editor for the anthology Red Sky: Poetry on the global epidemic of violence against women (Sable Books, 2016). Additional information available at www.gabriellelangley.com