between dreams

…

“persephone sits in a courtroom dress as green as summer trees her lipstick red as blood her golden crown sits on the table and hermes stares her down “did you eat the seeds of your own free will?” a dagger fashioned into a question hades flinches, front-row seat; thanatos his defense attorney demeter straightens in the audience a flower blooms in her sun-browned hair her curls a halo round her daughter’s face and persephone smiles “i did.” shocked gasps in the courtroom the jury whispers amongst themselves deities, spirits, nymphs, and ghosts all here to judge the king of hell “why?” persephone looks into her husband’s eyes lord and lady, king and queen she takes her crown and settles it upon her summer curls “centuries ago,” she says, every word a titan-sized whisper, “i was only a girl. look at me now.” persephone stands in a courtroom and hades smiles for here, she is a queen”

“And then my soul saw you and it kind of went, ‘Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you.’”

“i. Hermes comes to you first, on a rest stop somewhere between Argentine and Peru. He speaks a Spanish full of shhs, but it’s the wings that catch your eye. You’ve never seen anyone look so silly. He doesn’t even try to warn you away, just clicks his heels together and says, “No going back now, cariño.” ii. Maybe you expected Hecate next, but there are no more crossroads from here. You get Aphrodite in an empty parking lot, which is not much of a surprise. You’ve always known love and lust to come in the quiet, in the dangerous. “Trying to find me?” she asks, all mouth, “Or trying to get away from them?” You have no time for her games. iii. Athena slides into your booth and steals one of your fries. McDonald’s has never been a favorite, but you both have other things to consider. “I thought you were going to grow up better,” she grimaces at the watered down soda, then at the state of your clothes. “So did I,” you answer, “but life happens.” She lifts an eyebrow, and the world flickers. You see history in her eyes, blood and sorrow in her hands. It’s the epitome of survival, of all you never knew how to become. “That’s a poor man’s excuse.” iv. It’s Hestia who welcomes you back. She waits in the middle of your old room, as the clock shines 3am red against her skin. She takes your hands, and the heat seeps into the stiffness of your fingers. “I knew you would come home.” She looks like your sister, which is easier; your sister always understood leaving, always had the same restlessness coursing just underneath her skin. “The world won’t give you peace,” she explains, maybe a little too late. “You’re taking the fear with you.””

“You say you’re proud of me, of what you made. It sounds strange, like a forest fire taking credit for the things that grew from the ashes.”

late to work